Book 2: LunarMist
by Tesst
Summary: Twenty years after the Fall of Galbatorix we pick up the story in the point of view of Rathon, youngest son of Eragon, Rider of Leonis, and younger brother of Brom. What will happen to him? Sequel of BloodFire.
1. Chapter 1

Twenty years after the fall of Galbatorix, we pick up the story in the point of view of Rathon, son of Eragon.

Arya gave birth to her son six months after Galbatorix's fall, naming him Brom after Eragon's father. Four years later, she gave birth to a second son. They named him Rathon after the advice of the nameless werecat in Eragon's premonition. The male azure dragon Zacaid, the third egg in Galbatorix's holdings, hatched for Brom when he turned ten. Leonis, the red dragon son of Saphira and Shruikan, hatched for Rathon when he turned thirteen.

Aesire and Hola had their child a mere two months after Galbatorix's fall, a daughter they named Nayter. She inherited Aesire's logic, but her appearance was born completely of Hola, down to her ears and tail. However, she did not have the ability to morph into a wolf. Nor did she have the power to hide her ears and tail at her whim. She was the only child not to become a Rider.

As Aesire said she would, Katelyn became the first Rider of the new Order on her eleventh birthday. She named her silver female dragon Arani. With her position of the first Rider of the new Order, she was heavy burdened with responsibilities, which she took on whole-heartedly. Within three years, the number of Riders in the Order had gone from two to forty-one, Rathon and Brom included. Because of the rules put upon newer Riders, however, the dragons did not start hatching for their chosen Riders until a year from where LunarMist begins.

Eragon chose Aesire to be a general for him over the Riders, for Eragon knew no one better than Aesire to ensure that the Riders would never again grow arrogant of their powers. Who better to plan for the future than one who has seen it?

Aesire established a new training method for the Riders. This was his plan. When their dragons hatched for them, the new Rider would be given a master who would teach that one Rider alone until the apprentice graduated from the first step of their apprenticeship. Then they would leave Doru Araeba for the main body of Alagaesia without their dragon. The master would choose a city at random for the apprentice to live in. Once that city was decided, the Master and apprentice Rider took up residence in the city as commoners, without magic, wealth, or the authority of their station.

The apprentice would live like a commoner until the master was convinced that they had learned what it was like to live with humility. Once the master was convinced of that, they retuned to Doru Araeba, where the apprentice Rider graduated to a full Rider and was given the right to take on an apprentice of their own. And then this cycle would repeat itself. This way, the Riders would never again grow arrogant and fall once more.

Eragon established a new form of currency in Alagaesia. Instead of coins, easily stolen, anyone who wished to trade or purchase in any city had to be given a symbol that was inscribed on a scroll. Each city had a man, a coin keeper, which acted like a bank for coins that were put onto the value of your symbol. That way, if your scroll was stolen, it could not be used without your agreeing to it. It also acted as a saving ability to less fortunate families and a barrier to thievery from arrogant nobles.

All across Alagaesia, there was peace and prosperity that rivaled and surpassed the time of the Riders before Galbatorix. New cities arose with the urging of the elves' songs. The elves, after a hundred years, came together with their beloved sea once more. Struck with long forgotten love, they built a city, Elanaror, on the coast, in between Kuasta and Teirm. It became a great port. Roran and Katrina returned to the destroyed Carvahall and with Roran's influence, it became the fourth largest city in Alagaesia. Every remnant of Galbatorix was tore to the ground until it was only the rubble of a long past age. Except one.

Somewhere, in some rotten place, grew a hatred for Eragon, for the new Alagaesia and for the Riders. Eragon never learned where this hatred had begun, in order to extinguish it, but before a month had passed, a new Order had arisen. The Order of the Black Chamber, which sought to return Galbatorix, or one who was like him, onto the throne of the world.

Try as he might, Eragon could not find the practitioners of this belief, for they hid themselves in some of the most deviant magic Eragon had ever seen. It not only concealed their thoughts and themselves if they wished, but it hid the very fact that magic had been used anywhere near them.

With this spell, the Order of the Black Chamber grew, spreading to every city, not doing any real harm other than to turn a select few against Eragon. Still Eragon persisted, for every day that passed brought new reports of the Orders' plans. Every day, it became more and more evident that the Order could turn into a rebellion, and Eragon had no wish for a civil war to break out again.

And so we begin LunarMist in Rathon's perspective, five years after Leonis hatched for him.


	2. Rathon

**Mockingbirds: :) I couldn't do that because then I would be like a broken record. **

**Alice Prince: Deeply sorry, although by the time the general public reads this, May 13, 2011 at 8:15 PM I would have already sent you an email explaining it and you would have already set to work betaing the prologue. :)**

**Valkyrie-chick: :) A lot of people have commented on that. It will be addressed. It isn't as harsh as it sounds. **

**Antclift: No, the silver egg that hatched for Katelyn was the one Saphira's mother gave to Oromis. And it isn't so much a year as it is however long it takes for the Rider to understand what it is like to live in that sort of situation. **

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><p>Rathon's heart quickened as he awoke. He opened his eyes only to clench them shut as the lowering sun shone freely upon them. A shadow moved in the way of the sunlight and he reopened his eyes to see his elder brother, Brom, standing over him. Brom stood a full head higher than Rathon. Thick stubble crossed his chin, for he was in the height of his youth. Well defined muscles lined his arms, for their master Aesire had spent nearly the full scope of his time with Brom. Dark hair, not raven like Arya's but darker than Eragon's, ran down the sides of his face, framing it like an outline of raven feathers. He was five years older than Rathon and thus far had excelled in magic faster than Rathon could understand.<p>

Beside Brom stood Katelyn, like a batch of flowers beside a funeral garment. Bright, exuberant eyes spaced perfectly apart were placed under delicate eyebrows. Her brown hair tumbled down her back, unrestricted by a tie or bun. The only sign that she was more than an average human was the faint glow from her left palm and the tips of her ears that tapered up to points, hardly visible with her hair. While Brom stood with his arms crossed, looking down at him disapprovingly, Katelyn smiled down at him warmly.

"Rathon," she said cheerfully. "You should not sleep during a lesson. How do you ever except to become stronger if all you do is sleep?"

Brom scowled. "You're constantly treating him like an injured puppy hardly helps the situation, Katelyn."

"To the contrary," she said to Brom, tilting her head to look up at him with the same smile. "A man with honey will attract many more bees than a man with vinegar."

"This is not acceptable, Rathon," Brom said, ignoring Katelyn. Katelyn said nothing, but shrugged and returned her attention to Rathon. "The younger Riders look up to you for an example. If they follow in your lead, the Riders will be nothing but a pack of lazy louts before the year is done."

"That's why you're here," Rathon said. "I've never had a skill for much magic. That's why we're different. Grasping magic is like grasping a wet bar of soap to me and like griping a sword handle made for your hand for you."

"How will your magic improve if you're not even conscious?"

"Cease with your disputing," said a clear, vibrant voice from behind them. Brom did not turn, but kept his gaze locked with Rathon's. Katelyn turned and bowed.

"Master Aesire," she said formally.

Aesire, the man Eragon had trusted to teach the three of them, stopped a few yards away. "Brom," he said calmly.

"Yes, Master," Brom said in an equally calm voice.

"You will not make a plant more resistant to drought by depriving it of water."

"Your analogy is appreciated, yet little understood."

"Let your brother's abilities tend to themselves and in time, perhaps they will grow stronger. Step back, and let me speak with Rathon."

Brom continued to stare at Rathon for a moment, and then turned his back on his brother.

Aesire turned his attention on Rathon, his expression stern. "Rise," he said. Rathon rose and stood with his back straight.

"I left you four hours ago with the assignment to mold something out of clay with magic. What have you wrought in those hours?"

Rathon extended his hand and held out the latent orb that flashed with glowing lights every few seconds.

"And what purpose does this serve?" Rathon was silent. Aesire sighed and said, "Katelyn." Like a trained bird flitting to the hand of its master, Katelyn snapped to attention at Aesire's side.

"Yes, Master?"

"What have you made?"

Katelyn licked her lips and whistled three times. From around the roof of the courtyard came four chattering birds made from hardened clay.

"And show us the purpose in these creations."

Katelyn dipped her head and said, "Do not allow these birds' song to enter your heart." She clucked her tongue at them and they began to sing an elven song. Rathon felt his eyes begin to droop before Brom shoved him in the shoulder, bringing him back to alertness. Katelyn held out her hands and the birds ceased their singing and return to the roof. "Unless you take care to guard your heart, the birds' song will put you to sleep in less than a minute."

"And Brom, what have you made?"

Brom turned and pointed at the wall of the palace and they all stepped up to the side of it. Running along the edge of the palace wall were dragon heads, of exquisite detail, set five feet apart. The dragons reared up, their right paws held up as if to strike an unseen enemy. Twenty five in total lined the wall.

"And what is their purpose, other than being aesthetically pleasing?"

Brom composed himself for a moment before raising his arm out to the rolling sea and intoning, "Kveykva." At his command, the dragons on the wall simultaneously stirred, opened their mouths and all together twenty five bolts of lightning shot onto the rolling ocean below. A flash of light preceded the lightning before it collided with the ocean. Lines of electricity shot from one matter of debris to the next, evaporating every blemish on the sea until the ocean appeared as perfect as glass.

A flare of indignation ignited in Rathon as Aesire clapped his hands and Katelyn chirped with delight. "Well done," Aesire said proudly. "That you could do so much with only 'lightning' is expected for being a Rider for a decade. But to use only that word to compose a spell meant equally for war as it is for a display of knowledge is a feat!"

"Please Master," Brom said, lowering his arm. "They are hardly worthy of such praise. I simply used a basic spell to gather the filaments of electricity composed by the molecules in the air rubbing against each other, gathered that motive force and then released it at once, creating lightning." He rubbed his left arm with the knuckles of his right. "Indeed the spell did not work as I had intended. The flash preceding each of the collisions with water and lightning was caused by the lightning dropping several hundred degrees in the span of less than a second due to the ocean reseeding." He turned and bowed. "It was a failed spell and I will strive to predict the after effects of my spell when next I attempt it."

"As Nialzari wrought: 'To know the circumstances of a supernatural happening beyond mortal comprehension only moments after its conclusion betrays wisdom of a world weary adult.' Give yourself credit where it is due." Then his eyes fell onto Rathon, as did those of the rest of the people present. Rathon's arms were rigid and he stared down at the marble floor with humiliation. In the same amount of time, as Rathon had been able to make a useless lighter, Brom had been able to think of, design, mold and create not one, but twenty five powerful weapons of war that shot projectiles no earthly shield could stop.

"I will do better next time," Rathon finally managed to say.

"See that you do," Aesire said. "Tomorrow is your day off," he said to Rathon. "I suggest you use it redoing this assignment. In the future, you may not have four hours to craft an item of use."

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><p>Rathon slammed the doors to his chambers closed, climbed the ladder that led past the first three levels to his chambers and up to his small window that he spent a good part of his time in. The window was circular with six layers of padding so he could lay there for hours in comfort. He sat down in his usual spot and breathed heavily through his nose. <em>What do they expect of me?<em> he thought. _I've been a Rider for only five years, yet they treat me like I've been in training for a decade_. After nearly a half hour, there came a tapping from his door. Since it would take him nearly a minute to traverse the room he growled, "Who is it?"

"Your friend since childhood," came Katelyn's response. He sighed.

"Enter," he said with weary submission. Katelyn pulled the door open just enough to slip in and then ascended to his level and sat down opposite to him in the window. For an interminable time they sat together, silent. The Katelyn said, "Are you upset with Master Aesire?"

"No, not him."

"Me?"

"No, of course not."

"We are left with Brom then."

Rathon scowled. "Why does he have to act so imperious and noble? 'Indeed the spell did not go as I had intended.' Bah! Why was I born with such a bastard?"

A long moment passed before Katelyn replied. "I will agree that what he said was rather high minded. However, he has a high position to fill. When Eragon steps down from the throne, he will take his place."

"And when he is enthroned, then he can act like a self righteous zealot. I am a Prince, and will always remain as such. Why do I not have these rights? I am as much royalty as he."

"Yet as you just testified you will never be a higher level than he, unless he should die."

"Whose side are you on?"

"I am on neither of your sides; and at the same time I am on both."

"You sound more like Master every day," Rathon said, irritated.

A gentle smile spread on Katelyn's lips. "Do you believe that to be an improvement?"

Rathon's anger melted away and he met her gaze. Only she could take his anger at his brother, which usually burned with the intensity of a forest fire, and melt it away as if it had never existed. "How is it you can take my most heated anger and turn it off as if it was nonexistent?"

"I know you, Rathon," she said, taking his left hand. "And I know Brom. The three of us will always be the eldest of the new Riders, until the day we die. I will go to the grave before I allow mere resentment to tarnish that."

Rathon held her gaze for a moment longer before looking out at the sunset again. "I wonder how the dragons' day went."

"They are being taught just as rigorously as we."

"Yet their training they can enjoy. What greater freedom is there than flying? When you soar among the clouds, with nothing holding you down or fighting against you, then you know ultimate freedom. Humans cannot understand what that is like. To be able to live without restraint or opposition, to go wherever you will and to be able to look down onto all things as if you were the Ruler of the World."

"You've been reading more tales and epics than studying magic, haven't you?"

"Indeed. For my curiosity, what gave that detail away?"

"You always look out at the skies reflectively and recite the words you are remembering from some story. I don't even think you know you are doing it," she said with a small smile. Rathon remained somber, however.

"I wish I knew how to fly. I wish I could sore in the clouds with Leonis, the freest of beings in the entire world."

For a long pause they sat in silence, hands still clasped together. Then Katelyn said, "Forgive Brom for his short comings. I will speak to him of it, if it will please you."

"It would," he said, not acknowledging that she had let his hand go and was standing. He kept his eyes fixed on the distant seas.

Katelyn paused. "Does it bother you?"

"I can hardly answer that question without knowing what you are referring to."

"Never having seen the land of your forefathers? The actual world where your father fought and slew? Alagaesia?"

"Does it bother you?"

"I have been there."

Rathon's head snapped to her with an impudent expression. "When?"

Confusion crossed Katelyn's face. "Master didn't…" Her eyes widened with comprehension and she bowed and said, "I am not permitted to speak of it." And then she left before Rathon had a chance to confront her further.

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><p><strong>So, two things on a personal update. I'M 17! So that's awesome. What's not so awesome about that is my seventeenth birthday is on a Friday the 13th. Scary, huh? Ready for some more absolutely useless bits of knowledge? <strong>

**Did you know that a man by the name of Charlie Chaplin entered a look alike contest for himself? He got third place. Did you know that Laser is actually an acronym for "Light Amplification by Stimulated Emissions of Radiation?" Did you know that Walt Disney had a morbid fear of mice? (Think about it) **

**What comes after your standard gigabyte? Well it goes like this. You start with a byte; so small in space it is almost useless. After that comes kilobyte, megabyte, gigabyte, terabyte, petabyte, exabyte, zettabyte, and then comes the last one and it is appropriately named. The yottabyte. To help you comprehend how much space is in a yottabyte. It is theorized that _every_ word, spoken by _every_ human since _the_ _dawn of time_, would maybe fill 1.032% of a yottabyte. As of this year no storage system has even come close to even a zettabyte. The entire scope of the internet; ever site, forum, blog, social network, etc. and everything in them would come close to 500 exabytes. So, we've got a way's to go. **


	3. The Law of Love

**Valkyrie-chick: :) If I had done that, his choices in the future would have been far too predictable. Both are males.**

**BlakDawn: He would, and does for a few, but for the most part being King of the World keeps him mostly preoccupied.**

**Antclift: :) That would be awesome if my little fanfiction was made into a movie. Different sites mostly. I have photographic memory, I guess. :)**

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><p>Katelyn strode out of the Rider's chambers and took a deep breath of the salty air that she had her known for her entire life. <em>That was far too close, <em>she thought as she looked back at the long hallway that was dotted with doors. _I wish Master had told me he didn't want Rathon to know about our training in Alagaesia. _Shaking off the thought, she struck off at a random direction, when someone called her name. Turning her eyes towards the sound, she smiled as she saw her best friend Nayter running up beside her.

Several nobles and court men edged away as the wolf-eared girl approached, but Katelyn and Nayter had been best friends since before they knew how to talk. Nayter's bright brunette locks tumbled down the back of her neck in disarray in obvious haste. Her wolf ears tipped out of her hair as if they were made from the brown strands. She stopped beside Katelyn and panted for a moment.

"I am sorry," she said between gasps. "I saw you leaving the training ground with my father and had to run down this blasted palace to catch you. It's lucky I caught you before you entered Vroengard city, else I never would have found you."

"Indeed. Catch your breath," she said, patting her friend on the back affectionately. Together they walked along the streets of white stone. Shouts came from the people they passed.

"Hail, Rider!"

"All Hail Daughter of Stronghammer!"

"Praise to her Beautiful Grace!"

While they walked, Katelyn spoke to Nayter of how her training went; how the jobs in the palace wore on her, and of the numerous beginner Riders that she had been put in charge of training.

"I thought that King Eragon decreed that each Rider would have his own teacher."

"He did," Katelyn said, dodging a pair of children that ran past. "However, with the rise of the Black Chamber, Eragon has his hands full. Ruling the world is no easy thing to do, especially not with those rebels causing problems. And because of it, Brom and I have been assigned to train the newer Riders."

A long silence followed before Nayter said, "And….what of Rathon?"

A quirked smile spread on Katelyn's lips. She had always been aware of the affection Nayter held for Rathon. "Rathon? Whatever is your interest in him? I feel as though ever time I speak to you, he comes up in our conversation."

Nayter averted her eyes. She always tried to hide her feelings, but she may as well try to hide her wolf ears from Katelyn. "You know well enough," she said, dodging the question.

"To assume under a false persona the feelings of another would be to abdicate my post as Rider. My job is to _protect_, not _speak for_, the people of this world." After a pause she said, "Why you persist in allowing these feelings to keep you up at night is beyond my comprehension."

"If you only knew," Nayter said, distantly.

"As though I could be in any serious relationship," Katelyn laughed. "I am far too busy with such trivial pass times." Then she grew somber. "I didn't mean that the way it came out."

"It's fine," Nayter said shyly, glancing at the ground. She returned her attention to Katelyn and said, "I did want to know the underpinnings of Rathon's training as of late."

"I'm worried that King Eragon and Master Aesire may choose to send him to Alagaesia soon."

"For his equality training?"

"Of course. It's the only time in the apprentices training that they are allowed to leave the island for more than sparring bouts."

"Why does that concern you, though? You and Brom discovered that truth in relatively short time. You were back inside the month, as I recall."

"For two reasons. One is that Rathon may take so much longer to come to that realization. He seems to place himself above the other Riders because he is a Prince."

"And second?"

She sighed. "King Eragon and Master Aesire will almost certainly need Brom here. He is so talented in the nature of politics that Eragon may want him to stay. And since I am the only other person on the island that has the rank high enough to take him to Alagaesia they will almost certainly have me do so."

Nayter crossed her arms and said, "Perhaps it is because I am not a Rider, but I still fail to see why this is a problem."

"One of the most basic laws of the Riders ," Katelyn said, explaining in deliberate slowness, "is that Rider apprentices' are not allowed to be romantically involved, whether the recipient be Rider or not, until they complete their training."

"Why?" Nayter asked, looking over at Katelyn.

"It's Eragon's belief that if they have affections for someone during their training they will not be able to reach their full potential, because of the distraction."

"Ah," Nayter said, as if sudden comprehension had gripped her. "So then you are susceptible to Rathon as much as I?"

"Of course not. He's five years younger than me," Katelyn snapped back.

"Queen Arya was almost a century older than King Eragon when they fell in love."

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><p>The splash of sea mist clouded around Brom's face as he stood over the palace walls. Even from his height of a few hundred feet, the ocean sent its watery spray up to him. He stood with his arms crossed, looking down on Vroengard city and its mass of people and houses. <em>One day, <em>he thought. _One day I shall rule this. And more. The Elves, the Dwarfs, the race of Men._

_Perhaps. _The slow thoughts of his male dragon partner Zacaid entered his mind. _But many years separate your father stepping down from the throne._

_Who are we to judge when he will descended from his raised lordship?_

_Would you step down from being the King of the World merely to let your son step up?_

_Maybe I would, maybe I would not. Irrelevant_,_ considering I haven't children._

_Ah, but those days may soon end._

_You know the Law of Rider's Training as well as I._

_Are you an apprentice, Brom?_

_I may not be; but I am as equally, if not more so, burdened by the tasks the Riders demand of me. I have not the time to raise on heir._

_Give it a few years, _Zacaid counseled. _Eventually the number of Riders graduating will equal the Riders coming into the order. Then perhaps such burdens will be lifted off you. You are immortal; if not by your elven heritage than by your Rider's blood. What matters a few years?_

Brom ignored his question, sensing the rhetorical nature of the query. _The sun descends. Where are you?_

_Flying back with my fellow dragons. If you look north__, you might be able to see us._

Brom turned and trained his practiced eye on the northern horizon. As clearly as if they stood before him, four dots of varying color lined the northern sky. _Eragon has some celebration we are to attend. _Brom sensed a faint growl from Zacaid.

_And here I was thinking I might get a few extra hours of sleep. Oh well. What happened with Rathon?_

_"Nothing that isn't usual," _Brom said, both out loud and in his mind.

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><p>Rathon shifted the food on his platter around as the music and conversation around him swirled. At least seven hundred people sat at three tables that were almost two hundred feet long. Rathon, Brom, Katelyn and all the other Riders sat at Eragon's table. Beyond the Riders' table, there was no distinction in regards to who sat together. Commoners sat beside high nobles in many places. As Brom and Rathon were sons of Eragon, they sat opposite each other beside Eragon. Eragon and Arya sat at the end of the table in a smaller throne. Saphira, with her massive bulk, hardly fit in the dining hall, and as such had snaked her head in and rested it behind Eragon's seat. Her glittering blue eyes followed the occupant's movement keenly.<p>

Every so often, Rathon would glance up and see Brom or Eragon looking at him, before they hastened to look away, as he glanced at them. Katelyn sat beside Brom and openly looked at him with a large amount of concern. Even when Rathon looked back, she did not redirect her gaze. Finally, after nearly four hours, Rathon set his dagger down with a clatter and stood.

"I'm going to sleep," he said to the Riders' table. All the younger Riders silenced themselves and bowed their heads. Katelyn stood as well.

"I think I'll accompany you. It's a long walk to the Riders' Halls."

Without acknowledging her, Rathon stepped out from the table and draped his cloak back over his shoulders, which had draped down since the feast began. He strode down past the feast tables, studiously ignoring the feeling of eyes upon his back as he went past the nobles. _Self-serving indignant louts. _He could see Katelyn on the other side of the Riders' table, keeping step with him the whole way. When they were outside in the light of the moon, she caught up with him.

"You've been awfully silent tonight," she commented.

"Words do not appeal to me tonight. Is that a crime?"

"I also noticed that there was a fair amount of resentment aimed at Brom."

Rathon ignored her second observation. Instead of answering, he quickened his pace so she was forced to do likewise. "Why does it concern you?" he asked as he bounded up a steep hill.

"You are my fellow Riders; and one of the first thereof, chosen to resurrect our Order. Unity is required if we are to fill that goal."

"Among two of us, maybe. With Zacaid and Arani to give life to the Riders, what am I and Leonis needed for? Alternatively, a better question. There are maybe, what, thirty other Riders? Forty?" He slashed a hand through the air. "And yet is it put on Leonis and mu back to take part, in some small insignificant way, with the rebirth of the Riders? Why cannot the younger Riders' Dragons mate and give life back to our order? Where is the harm in that?"

"Rathon," Katelyn said quietly. "You know as well as I that Riders, or their Dragons, are not allowed to be romantically involved until they graduate from their apprenticeship. That is why Arani and Zacaid could mate. Brom and I have been granted premature graduation, so that we can help bring back the Riders."

"That's all anyone is concerned of," Rathon said angrily. "Bringing back the Riders. They will come back on their own without our incessantly pestering the process. If anything, we're delaying them."

They stopped before the doors to the Riders' Hall. There, Katelyn placed a hand on his forehead. "Someday, Rathon, I promise the decisions Eragon makes will make sense to you. He and Master have something planned for the three of us; I know they do. We have but to wait and accept it."

"And what of you?" Rathon asked, lowering his voice to the same level as she. "Arani cannot become involved with Zacaid without your equal involvement. And she must, following Eragon's rules, either with Leonis or Zacaid."

"What will be will be, and there is nothing we can do to change that. Whatever Arani chooses, I will back with all my power unless it is inherently wrong. Her I love with every ounce of magic in my body, and if she chooses, Zacaid then I will honor her decision. It has to be her choice, though, and I cannot in good mind attempt to affect her decision." With a sly smile, she bowed and said, "Well then; I bid thee a good sleep, Prince Rathon."

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><p><strong>Did you know that if you touch your tongue during a yawn it will completely stop it? Did you know that in 1991 McDonalds something called the McLean Deluxe that was made with a veggie rap? First and last attempt by McDonalds to make something healthy. Did you know that kryptonite, radioactive remains of Superman's home planet, was originally brought into play to buy the creator a week vacation? Did you know that Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, self-proclaimed political rivals, died the same day on the same year, within hours of each other, the exact day that fifty years earlier they had both signed their name on one very important piece of paper?<strong>

**So, the Apocalypse didn't happen May 21st as predicted. What are your thoughts on that one?**


	4. The Test Begins

**First off, can't believe I did this again, but apparently I came up with a name that's pronunciation was difficult for quite a number of people. Nayter, Katelyn's childhood friend, was supposed to be spelled with a dash over the e, which would make it sound like you were saying Naytear. However, as you may have noticed, the FanFicition page was edited and it apparently no longer recognizes such dashes. **

**Moving on.**

**Prince of Madness 54**: **Thank you. Your second paragraph I think, and hope, I address in this chapter; at least in an indirect way. **

**Valkyrie-chick: ****J Well you will just have to keep reading to find out. **

**Antclift: ****J Little spoiler for one of my favorite readers, regarding your second point, it's going to be kind of the other way around. **

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><p>Rathon did not eat that night, nor the next morning. He went to such extreme measures to avoid making contact with his brother, even if the contact was nothing more than seeing him. Instead, he went straight out with Leonis and two of the younger Riders. Together, they flew out across the sea, not really going anywhere, but simply enjoying their day off.<p>

_You are upset, are you not__?_ came Leonis' voice inside Rathon's head.

_Simply my brother again._ Leonis tilted his left wing to compensate for a surge in wind. _It seems to me that your brother angers you quite often._

_Indeed he does._ They had been flying for more than an hour when Rathon sensed someone pushing at his thoughts. After identifying the person as Katelyn, he opened his mind and let her enter.

_King Eragon requests that you return to the palace._

_For what, if I may be so arrogant to ask?_

_He did not say._

Rathon lifted a hand and the other two Riders gave them their attention. "We return to the city," he said loudly, that they might hear him. As one, the three dragons tilted on their left wings, spun around, and flew back to the palace.

* * *

><p>When Rathon opened the door to his father's chambers, he saw the lean King standing in front of the large windows which overlooked the city of Vroengard. Without turning around he said, "Aesire informs me that you did poorly on your assignment yesterday."<p>

"And what if I did?"

"Then I wish to aid you."

Resentment sparked in Rathon. _So that you aren't humiliated by a weak son?_ "If I were to be taught at the level I am at, then perhaps I would not have such troubles."

"Come now, Rathon. You know better than that. You are an elder Rider that will make the foundation for the new order of Riders."

"And why is that position hoisted onto me? Brom and Katelyn are over half a decade older than me, so why is it that a Rider of a younger generation must help lead it into its new era?"

"Because for nearly a century, your dragon, or at least his egg, held a very powerful position. Either Leonis could help defeat Galbatorix or he could destroy the Varden, elves, dwarfs and the free humans of Alagaesia. Because of that high position, you have been raised above what you think you can handle. If one of the dragons that helmed the Varden's desperate hopes is rode by a weak Rider, it will dishearten the Riders from here on in. And you are a prince. Seeing the royalty of Vroengard as weak will vindicate the Black Chamber as nothing else will."

"If you cannot stomp out a few lowly rebellions, then a poor King you would be."

"I will not destroy something merely because it thinks differently than me."

"Why? You have every ability to. So then why do you choose not to?"

Eragon turned to him and said, "This is a lesson that Brom and Katelyn learned before you and, if I have my way as king, every rider that comes after you. The lives of those under you should be treated as if they were above you."

"Idiocy. Absurdity. The strong rule the weak and the Riders are the strongest people in the world."

Eragon opened his mouth to respond, but then seemed to think better of it and instead returned to his observation of the horizon. "Perhaps it is time then. Better now before this misguided belief has a chance to grow and spread like a weed."

"Time for what?"

"I want you to know," Eragon said, ignoring his question. "Not even Katelyn and Brom had a chance to complete this stage of their training in its fullness. We needed them to come back to train so that when the newer dragons began to hatch they could train the newer riders, in part. I cannot teach the younger generation, for while I may teach a Rider every so often, I am too preoccupied with the Black Chamber to teach them as I had wished. There is, however, no such inhibition with you. Granted, we would be without two of our elder Riders, but if this is not done, and soon, the chances of you fulfilling your role will by slim to none."

Rathon grit his teeth. "I can fulfill any role you assign me, if only you did so within my abilities."

"That is exactly what I mean to do." A long pause followed, wherein Rathon's anger was allowed to cool. For nearly a half hour they stood in that position, neither moving. "I have a plan for the three of you, Rathon. You, Brom and Katelyn. And I wish to be able to use your full potential, not the slim effort you are putting forth, for your full potential will be required."

"What is that you would have me do, then?"

"You will take the next step in your instruction, one that is premature but needed. You will leave Vroengard to the main body of Alagaesia and there you will live until you learn what is to be taught there. Katelyn will be the supervisor of this training, for she learned her lesson the best and quickest."

Rathon tightened his grip on his leggings. "So that's what Katelyn was talking about." It was not a question. "Why you did tell me this would eventually come to pass, I would wonder. What frustrates my curiosity even more, however, is why Katelyn and Brom did not have to do this _in its fullness_. And the only answer that is in my sight is that there is some lesson that I require that they do not; meaning a difference of such magnitude exists between us that I need special training. If that is your answer, I look forward to learning what this _lesson_ is."

"An obvious conclusion, but well perceived. Aye, they did not have the time to complete this task completely; their talents were required elsewhere, but there is another reason that evidently escapes you. And that purpose you will learn of from them. As for your other question, the lesson you must learn that they did not so require. Equality."

"Equality? Between what?"

"Those under you and yourself. The declaration you made about the Black Chamber, those who are weak will always bow to those who are strong, contradicts every principle your ancestors fought and spilled their blood fighting for. They died so that a man with the same mindset that you have now, that I am better than anyone else. And that man came very close to shrouding the entire world and all who live within it in the blackness of his rule. I will not allow this gross arrogance to stand in my own son."

"So you will send me away until I learn without a teacher?" Rathon growled.

"Hardly. No one on this island can teach you this lesson, including yourself. For here this nothing but what has pampered this arrogance for your entire life. And that does nothing but aid and grows your arrogance." Eragon crossed his and was silent for a while. Then he said, "Tomorrow night you will leave with Katelyn for the main body of Alagaesia. She is the one who will decide what city you will dwell in. You will leave behind all the trappings of your rider identity, namely your dragon."

Rathon's blood turned to ice. "Why?" he asked in a low, angry voice.

"How will you ever rid yourself of your pride if you carry it on your back wherever you go? Leonis will stay here, in addition to your scroll with your symbol. Also, a more important note, you are forbidden to use magic of any kind or nature."

Rathon steamed with anger. Inside he simmered with rage at his father. _He is just trying to get rid of his embarrassing son._ "And what if I decide to reject this command?"

"Then you will be disbanded from the ranks of the Riders."

Rathon blanched. "You cannot be serious!"

"I will not risk another Galbatorix because you don't want to go through a branch of your training. If you prove that giving power to you would be dangerous then I will remove you from any ability to have power of any kind. You must understand. Pride is what led to Galbatorix. Pride led to over confidence, which led to the death of his dragon, which led pain, which led to anger, which led to hate, which eventually gave birth to the worst menace this land has known."

With clinched fists he said, "How long do I have to stay in this city?"

"As long as it takes. If that should be ten years, then Katelyn will keep you there."

Rathon spun around and stepped out the door and said, "I will do this for no other reason than to maintain my standing as Rider."

"That is the very mindset that we wish you to be ridded of."

Rathon ignored his father and left the King's meeting chamber.

* * *

><p><strong>My reason for the rather tedious update was A. my email got hacked by some random hooker who sent a bunch of dirty pictures to a number of people and B. Because of this, I couldn't get the chapter to my beta and thus could not update the story. I finally broke down and just got a new email. Which, I'm sorry, I can't share with you because of the likelihood of another hacker getting into that one. <strong>

**Did you know that the highest temperature ever recorded in Antarctica was 3 degrees? Did you know that if all the ice in Antarctica were to melt the sea would rise over two hundred and thirty feet? Did you know the oil from hemp seeds, weed and/or crack, has the highest percentage of essential fatty acids and the lowest percentage of saturated fats. In other words, the seeds of crack is really good diet food. Did you know the only city, in the world, named Beach is found in the land locked state of North Dakota? **


	5. Departure

**SimplySupreme: :) I will hold you to that promise**

**Antclift: :) Well, then I have succeeded in what I meant to do; and hopefully will continue to confuse you on that point. Inception was easily, hands down, by far the most confusing movie I have ever seen. **

**Valkyrie-chick: :) You will just have to keep reading.**

**Mockingbirds: As do I.**

**FlexManSteel: Trust me, I agree with you.**

* * *

><p>Rathon sat on his bed and clasped his face in his hands. A half full pack lay beside him on the bed, containing only the items Katelyn had deemed of an essential nature. He could not bear the sight of the items the pack held. <em>One day, <em>he thought. _One day I will have a place of power above all others. One day, no one will be able to banish me from their sight._

A soft knocking came from the door of his chambers. He looked up from the mask of his fingers and waved his index and middle fingers through the air. Like a silent shroud of cloth, the door to his chambers slid open. The one aspect of his overly advanced training that he had no problem grasping was the magic of moving an object from one place to another, through space, using pure energy to support it. To do so for Katelyn or Brom required great effort and concentration, but he grasped the magic and used it almost without the cost of energy. The magic, if magic it could be called, came easily to him. Aesire had explained that if you defined magic as the manipulation of energy then that skill was magic. But on Rathon's part, it felt more like his master was simply trying to make him feel better about his lack of skill in other areas.

He lowered his arms to see Nayter step into the room, shy as the young wolf she partially resembled. She wore a flowing white gown inlayed with gold and purple stripes and on her head, she wore a circlet of emerald green. Her tail was hidden from view, but her ears were not so easy to cover. They sat out on full display, almost seeming to make the girl uneasy with those around her.

Rathon had known her from a very young age. Often, she would come with Aesire when he went to train him, Brom and Katelyn. Many times, he would look up from a strenuous stance of the Dance of the Snake and Crane and see her eyes upon him, only to see them flit away like hummingbirds when she noticed him looking back at her. It was his conclusion that Aesire had set her up to watch him for weaknesses so as to give Aesire a reason to never grant Rathon the rank of Master Rider.

"Nayter," he said, guarding his tone against the anger he felt. "To what do I owe this visit?"

She took a few more feeble steps in. "My father…" she said haltingly.

"Speak of him with his name. I know who he is." In his numbed anger, he was harsher than he meant to be.

"Aesire told me that you will be leaving Vroengard this night."

"Perhaps I shall at that. I'm not sure when Katelyn plans on leaving."

Nayter's wolf ears twitched. Rathon's eyes sharpened. He had known her long enough to know that when her ears did that it usually meant that she had just learned something that she found either distressing or surprising. He studied her, trying to make out the small shifts in her ears, either forward or backward, that would indicate which of those options where the more likely. However, none was forthcoming, for she held her ears so stiffly they did not move a centimeter in any direction. "Katelyn is going?" she said slowly.

"Yes. She is the one that will be supervising this _branch _of my training as the king calls it."

A small forced laugh came from her. "I will be without someone to talk to for many long days then." Then she fell silent.

After nearly a minute he said, "Is there something else you needed?"

Nayter dipped her head downward, her eyes shifting to the ground at her feet. "It may be some time until I see you next, Rathon. And so I thought that I should tell you…"

"Tell me what?"

"That I…"

At that moment, the doors to the chambers were opened once again and Brom and Katelyn strode in. Brom, his usually stern expression not diminished and Katelyn, a pack similar to his slung over her shoulder. Rathon stood from his bed and said, "Do you think you are a King, coming in wherever and whenever you choose to, uninvited?"

Brom studied him for a short moment, and then his eyes fell onto Nayter. His eyes registered sudden surprise and a veiled emotion that when Rathon tried to identify it it vanished. A dark expression came to his eyes and he returned his attention to Rathon, the mask of his stoic passiveness returning; the left side of his mouth drawn back in a mocking sneer. When he spoke, his voice was harsh and threatening. "I need not your permission to walk these halls as I so choose. I am the director of this Riders' Hall. I may go wherever I want at any time that I want and you will have naught to say of it but granting me peaceful access. Whether or not that permission is granted is as dust in the wind, pointless, meaningless, worthless and as much a barrier as the soft dirt at my feet." Without awaiting a response, he directed his gaze at Nayter, where it focused without wavering. When he spoke he did so without the coldness he had directed at Rathon, but not without a flicker of anger. "For three reasons you should not be here, daughter of Aesire. Reason one: you are not a Rider and therefore have no business in the Riders' Hall. Reason two: females are not allowed in this Hall, for it is only for male Riders. If you were in Katelyn's Hall then that would not be a problem. Reason three is the hour. It is but a half hour until dark. You strike me as intelligent, being the child of one so wise as Aesire, so I do not believe it is necessary for me to explain why a boy and girl being alone in a private chamber a half hour before dark is a concern." He held out a hand to the door. "Need I direct you to the door?"

Nayter cast a quick glance at Rathon then dipped into a curtsy and said, "Forgive me, Master Rider. I…was simply bidding Rathon farewell."

"Apologies are not needed and are therefore not accepted. Leave now and close the door on your way out." With a finally glance at Rathon, Nayter rushed out of the room.

When she was well out of earshot, Rathon said coldly, "Has anyone ever told you how much of an incredible bastard you can be?"

"Still your tongue," Brom spat, sitting in a chair adjacent to him. "I am here only because Katelyn asked that I be. You are lucky you have my presence at all so be grateful for what you have, _apprentice_."

Katelyn clapped her hands and said, "No more of this ill-spawned chatter. Rathon, it is time we go."

"Why is _he _here then?" Rathon said, glaring at Brom.

"The Riders fell years ago because no one watched the watchers. For that reason, I will not be the one divesting you of those things not essentially for your training."

Brom stood and held a hand out to Rathon. In a formal voice, as if he were performing a ceremony, he said, "Rathon, son of King Eragon, you are hereby instructed to proceed with your Rider's education. You will surrender to me your symbol scroll, as well as any markings that set you apart from a common farmer. Before your feet leave this island, you are to break the contact with your dragon, not to be reestablished until you return. Your instructor, Katelyn daughter of Katrina, has chosen Bullridge as your training city. Once you leave Vroengard, you will go straight to the city on the dragon of your instructor. Once you arrive at the city the dragon will return and are not to step foot outside a mile radius of the city's limits until your instruction is complete. When that time comes, your instructor will summon back their dragon and you may return. The report she gives will dictate whether or not you will become a Master Rider. Do you understand these instructions as I have given them to you?"

Rathon looked at Katelyn with an air of astonishment. "This is the last step before you become a Master Rider?"

"Yes, it is, so long as you complete this training successfully."

"You never told me that it was the last phase." Rathon rubbed his arm, feeling almost regret for striking at his father as he had.

"That knowledge is prohibited to you until the eve of the training," said Brom. "Answer the question. Do you understand these instructions and will you abide by them?"

"Yes, I do and yes I will."

"Be gone then. Leave Vroengard for Bullridge, only to return when you learn what must be learned."

* * *

><p>Rathon tossed his pack over Arani's side. The soft touch of the silver dragon's mind came to his. He allowed the access and heard her say, <em>Do not be fearful, young one. With what potential you have, you will complete this in no more than a week. <em>Arani was almost unnatural opposite to her rider, shy, quiet and sensitive to the slightest unfriendly comment.

Biting the inside of his check he said, _Thank you for your confidence, Master. It means much._

Katelyn stepped into view from the King's Hall, holding two symbol scrolls in one hand, while with the other she carried a pack slung over her shoulder. She handed one of the scrolls to him and said, "Here is your replacement scroll." He unfurled the scroll and examined the symbol, blanching as he read how much currency it held. The amount was barely enough to pay for pitiful food for a less than four days.

"I'm supposed to live on this? This isn't even enough for food, much less housing or anything else I'm bound to need!"

A crooked smile leapt across Katelyn's lips. "Excellent point. You'll just have to find some other means in which to produce income won't you?"

Shimmering in anger, Rathon said, "Are you seriously insinuating that I should get a…job?"

"Indeed I am. We'll be going now." She tossed her things onto Arani's back and leapt up into the saddle. After a long moment of breathing heavily on the ground, Rathon followed her. His mental link with Leonis severed, Arani took to the air and in little over an hour, Vroengard ceased to be visible.

* * *

><p><strong>Couple of important notes today. Note one: my beta, for reasons, which shall remain muted, will be slowing down on the return dates for chapters. How drastically this will affect chapter updates is a bit unclear. Note two: I have a new poll up, since I usually make new one each book that will be up either until the end of LunarMist or until I think of a new one. Whichever one comes first. Note three; to my beta, sorry, I had to switch something in the chapter as soon as you got it to. The reason being is I realized what I want to happen in the third book is not plausible if I did not change the very small portion that I did. <strong>

**Did you know that Connecticut and Rhode Island never ratified the 18th Amendment: Prohibition? Did you know tha**t **Lyndon B. Johnson was the first president of the United States to wear contact lenses? Did you know that Theodore Roosevelt went his entire inaugural speech without once using the word "I"? **


	6. Rylar

**Antclift: My brother's best friend lets me work at his sport's store, so I'm good. :) He will leave….eventually. :)**

**FlexManSteel: I didn't like having him be that mean, but it was necessary for about three reasons. Of course, I won't be sharing those reasons until a later time. **

* * *

><p>Rathon bent over and panted, his breath coming in short gasps as sweat fell down his face to the ground below like a waterfall. The handkerchief he had tied to his brow before beginning his work as Delnoon's assistant had long since been saturated. Delnoon, a thin tall man who reminded him of a rapier, stood over him on the upraise of earth, his arms crossed with impatience.<p>

"Come on," he said. "The Ramr River will be swelling up like the mad ocean in a couple of days and I'm not interested in losing my animals because of it." For two days, Delnoon had been having Rathon move large rocks and pile them in a wall, the reason being was so that when the Ramr was filled with the spring water that would be coming when the snow of the Beor Mountains melted, it would not endanger Delnoon's livestock. It was an incredibly tiring task, made all the more tedious and exerting because of their proximity to the desert. If Rathon had been allowed, he could have used magic to move the rocks and been done in less than a day.

For nearly three and a half months, Rathon and Katelyn had lived in Bullridge in a decrepit inn. Because Bullridge was so close to the Hadarac, no crops could be summoned from the soil. Thus, the only form of trade available to the town was livestock. The city did possess one advantage that made it thrive: the Urgals. Because the race of migrating beasts had chosen the desert as their home, Bullridge had become nearly the only resting point for trade routes. It had grown to four times its size before Galbatorix's death because of how many people passed through it. Since farming was next to impossible Rathon had taken a job from a local herder; a man who managed the herds of many people.

Rathon could not bear the city. Its heat oppressed him. He had lived his entire life on an island with ocean spray constantly cooling him. Without it, he felt like he was on fire all throughout the day. At night, when the sun no longer sent its relentless rays down upon him he would lay in his bed and stare up at the ceiling, playing out scenes of misfortune for all who had wronged him. Katelyn, despite not taking a job, appeared to have just as much money as she had on Vroengard, for she purchased unnecessary items in an abundance that staggered him.

With a grunt, Rathon pushed the final rock into place. He slumped against the wall of dirt behind him, savoring the shade it provided. Delnoon jumped down into the empty space where the river would soon flow with him. He sat down beside him and sighed. "Thank you for your aid, Rathon. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Hire someone else I would imagine."

"You're the only one that will accept what low pay I can afford to give." He pulled out a strip if cloth and wiped his face. Rathon scowled to himself. Katelyn, upon learning that he had found a job, had told him that he was not allowed to make anything more than five crowns a day. He made hardly enough to pay for essentials. Delnoon looked over at him.

"You never did tell me where you're originally from."

Rathon's gedway ignasia shimmered and he clasped it over the back of his other hand to hide it. "I came from Dras'Leona before coming here."

"To Bullridge? This city is large, but nothing compared to that grand place." When Rathon did not respond he reached into his pocket and held out his hand to him. Six gold coins rested on his hand. "Here's your pay for the day."

Rathon accepted them and said, "You're short three silvers."

Delnoon sighed. "I know. It's as much as I can give, though." Rathon stood and untied the band from around his head.

"Do you need me tomorrow?"

"I likely will," Delnoon said with a grimace. "One of the cows is going to give birth any day now. I'll need help when that happens." Rathon gritted his teeth in annoyance. That was by far one of the most disgusting things he had ever had to do. _I am a prince,_ he thought. _I should not be helping cows give birth!_ He staggered up the mound of dirt and earth and stretched his arms.

"I'll be going then." Delnoon muttered an acknowledgement and Rathon left.

* * *

><p>Dodging around the small children that ran past him, he sat down in his chair in the dining and drinking area of the inn. Within five minutes, Katelyn joined him. "How went your work today?" she asked, noting the sweat beading his face.<p>

"The same as yesterday, the day before that, and odds are the same as tomorrow. Why do you continue to ask me that question when the answer is obvious?"

Katelyn clasped her hands in her lap and said, "I'm your instructor, Rathon. It's my duty to make sure you learn what needs to be learned."

Rathon rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes. The all-important lesson that I have conveniently never heard of before and that you and Brom ironically did not have to learn." He tapped the counter to summon the serving woman and said, "Give something strong." The brunette dipped her head and stepped away, filled a mug with liquid from an oak casket, returned and accepted the three coppers he handed her. He took a long draft from the mug and set it on the counter, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "I'll be honest, Katelyn. I think Eragon simply wants to get rid of me because of how much weaker I am compared to Brom."

Katelyn glanced at the people close to them and then whispered, "Guard your tongue better. It will cost us three and a half months if people discover who we are."

"Three and and a half months of what?" growled Rathon. "Wasting our precious time, that's what." With a muttered oath, he drained the rest of his drink and left to the small room upstairs he spent most of his money on. He sat down on the paper-thin mattress and tried to master his pulsating anger. He knew that much of his anger was unwarranted, as well as how and on whom he had unleashed it. Katelyn had not done anything to deserve such treatment.

He opened his palm and looked down at his gedway ignasia, thinking about the many nights he had spent training, in secret, with Aesire's brother Zodion. The powerful man had seen his ability to move objects with magic; drawing similarity from it with his shard of the Floating Shard. The night Zodion had spoken to him return to his memory and he closed his palm as the images played over what had been in his mind.

_He sat in the courtyard that had been set aside for his, Brom's and Katelyn's training, the sweat falling from his forehead so quickly it forced him to tighten his eyes closed to keep the salty liquid out of them. His limbs shook from attacking the three dummies in the center of the courtyard for as long as possible. He heard footsteps beside him and assumed that it was some noble passing by. The footsteps did not move on, however. He wiped his eyes and looked up and saw a man who looked so similar to Aesire he at first thought it to be him. Then he saw how his hair was at least five inches longer that Aesire's, as well as how the man's arms were not corded with veins and muscles. The man looked down at him for a long while until Rathon said, "What do you want?"_

_The man smiled on the left side of his mouth and said, "My name is Zodion. You might recognize me from my similarity to my twin brother Aesire. I've been watching you for some time now." He knelt down on his right knee and said, "I was particularly interested with your ability to shift objects with manipulated energy."_

_He looked at Zodion with a crooked sneer. The opportunity to boast of his power came rarely enough that he used each to its full advantage._

_"Stronger than you'll ever be in it, no doubt." His speech was cut off by brief pauses for breath. Zodion leered, a confident gleam in his eye. He took his arm out of his cloak and opened his palm towards the three dummies. A ravening blast of energy so powerful Rathon could feel it vibrating the air around them exploded outward. He covered his face against the wind the blast of energy created. When the wind died down__,__ he lowered his arms and saw that nothing __remained of the dummies, or the ground ten feet around where they had been. The stones around that spot where black as the night sky. Zodion examined his work for a moment before returning his attention to Rathon._

_"Clearly."_

_Rathon was speechless. Zodion continued. "The simple manipulation of energy to lift and move an object is the most basic form of magic. But if that skill is sharpened and honed, it can overcome any lack of other magical power." He lowered his arm and showed Rathon his palm. Tied down to it was a crystal as clear as fresh mountain water. "Behold, a __shard of the Floating Crystal. It is what allows me to master this magic as I have. You are different, Rathon. You require nothing to aid or amplify your control. I offer you this; my knowledge, my experience. I can train you in this art, so that one day you might be able to rival your brother." He stood and said, "So that one day you might receive the gift I have to offer. If you accept this training, and truly I hope you do, go to the lowest chamber of this Palace at midnight tonight, and there you will find me train you."_

Rathon had gone where he had been told to go and there he found Zodion and there Zodion had taught him for almost a year in secret. Their nightly sessions were one of the main reasons he slept during Aesire's teachings.

He laid back in his bed and after a while of recalling memories he drift into sleep.

* * *

><p>Rathon left early the next morning, wanting to avoid speaking to Katelyn, walking to Delnoon's home as quickly as he could. When he arrived he saw that a young girl stood beside Delnoon as he leaned over a workbench. As Rathon began to climb the hill the herder lived on many of the animals began to bay at his approach. Delnoon and the girl turned to him and Rathon was struck by the girl's beauty.<p>

Her blonde hair tumbled down her face and shoulders in thick curls. Her skin was the tone of light honey held to a lantern. Her thin eyebrows cast nearly imperceptible shadows on her smoky sapphire blue eyes. Her thin nose was set almost perfectly above her full lips, which where slightly parted, so she could breathe easier, showing even white teeth through the small gap. Rathon's face burned as he saw her well-endowed chest, which was hardly restrained. A white cloth folded over twice and tied in the back was all that held the mounds back. Through the nearly translucent fabric, Rathon was able to feast his eyes on her splendor. Her flat stomach was shaped so wondrously that it captivated his attention for a good portion of the time he spent making his way up the hill. His examination only wavered when he noticed her legs and hips where hardly covered. A pair of men's leggings cut off at the knee was all that adorned her lower half, and it did so little to hide her form it may as well not have been there at all.

At the same time the girl had been running her eyes over him, lingering on his arms, chest and the fork of his legs, where there now existed a growing bulge. A coy smile flickered across the girl's lips as Rathon stopped in front of them.

Delnoon shook Rathon's hand and said, "Thank you for coming in today, Rathon. This is my daughter, Rylar. Rylar, this is-"

"Rathon," she said, in a voice that reminded Rathon of smooth flowing water. She bowed at the waist, giving Rathon another hot flush as her cleavage was exposed. When she straightened a sly light had come to her eyes. Biting the inside if his mouth, he addressed Delnoon.

"Where is the cow we will be working with today?"

Delnoon tapped the side of the workbench as he leaned back on it. "Well, unfortunately, there's been a minor change in plans."

"How so?"

"Lain, our biggest client as of yet, has insisted his prize animals be taken to a special branch of the Ramr to drink the fresh water coming in from the Mountains. I have to take nine or ten of his best animals to a stream a couple of leagues south of here, if his estimation is accurate. So Rylar has agreed to help you today. She's helped me since she was ten, so the two of you should be fine by yourselves."

Rylar put a hand on her father's shoulder and said, "When are you going to return?"

"As soon as possible." He grimaced. "But even under the best of luck I won't be back until late tomorrow or early the next day. I'm sure she'll find things for you to do," he said to Rathon. Rylar smiled and looked at Rathon, slowly running her tongue over her upper lip. Delnoon raised his arm out to a cow that lay on its side some twenty yards away.

"However, I don't want anything to go wrong, so why don't we go over the whole process before I leave?" Without awaiting a response, he headed off towards the cow. Rathon took a deep breath as Rylar stepped up beside him and they began walking after Delnoon. As she walked the mounds on Rylar's chest bounced ever so slightly. Rathon watched her out of the corner of his eye. When they stopped behind Delnoon, the man began an overly descriptive speech on the birthing of cows.

Rathon's heart began to thump so hard he could hear it as Rylar snaked her arm up around his shoulder. She leaned up on her toes and whispered, "I see the way you looked at me. Do you think I don't know what that means?"

Rathon swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I wouldn't dare guess what you don't know."

Rylar's eyes drifted half closed and she said in a husky seductive voice, "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Rathon licked his lips as he looked down on what he could see of her breasts. "I stay in an inn in the city."

She breathed softly in his ear and he uttered a small gasp as her right hand ran down one of his legs, lightly brushing his member. "Why don't you spend the night here, with me?"

* * *

><p><strong>Did you know that in ancient Rome to testify for a man meant he swore on his <strong>**testicles** **to tell the truth? If it was discovered he was lying….you can imagine the punishment. Did you know that the first owner of Marlboro died of lung cancer? Oh, the irony. Did you know that it's impossible to lead a cow up stairs. However, it is possible to lead them down stairs. Did you know that a "jiffy" is an actually unit of time measurement. 1/100 of a second. Remember that the next time you promise to be done in a jiffy. **


	7. A long over due M chapter

Delnoon packed the rest of his things and gathered the herd with a wave of his walking stick, which sent his two herd dogs out to gather the animals. Rathon followed Delnoon down the hill, both to bid him farewell, and to make sure the herder had left. When the man's head dipped below the southern houses, Rathon turned back to the house, and the blonde seductress that waited for him there. She stood at the tip of the hill, a blonde goddess of beauty and lust. He went up the hill as fast as he could, traversing rock and holes that had previously conquered any of his determination. When he reached her, she placed a hand on his shoulder, leaned up and locked her mouth with his. Her lips were as soft as satin. Their tongues connected in between the bridges of their lips, running over each other like playful kittens. Then Rylar pulled her tongue back and, flicking at his, inviting him into her mouth. For almost a minute they remained locked in a passionate kiss until Rylar broke the contact for air.

She took shuttering breathes as she reached around her back and untied the knot holding the cloth that confined her breasts. Rathon bit his lip as her magnificence was revealed. Her breasts were perfectly shaped, with a peach colored nipple at the center of each of them. Her eyes fired with lust, Rylar wrapped an arm around Rathon's head and guided him towards the mounds. As his mouth latched to one of the erect nubs, Rylar uttered a moan that made Rathon's blood burn. Rathon's left hand snaked around her slender waist and ran up and down her smooth back, while his left rubbed her other breast.

Rylar arched her neck as he nibbled and sucked on her nipple, moaning as he softly bit it. Slowly, she guided him towards the house. When they reached the front steps, he reached down to her tight butt and lifted her up. She uttered a startled gasp as he did and then laughed and kissed him again, this time more passionately then the last. Through the brief spurts when their lips where not sealed together he said, "Bed...room." She let go of his mouth and said, "Up the stairs, down the hall, second door on the right." Then she locked her mouth with his again.

Rathon staggered up the stairs that led to the upper levels of the house, all the while running his hands over her. When he got to the room she had indicated, he pushed it open, stepped inside and then closed and locked the door. He set her down on the bed and she laid back, looking up at him, the lust in her eyes growing hotter and stronger every second. Rathon pulled his shirt off with fumbling fingers. Rylar kicked off her small shoes and ran a foot up and down his leg. Then she began to teasingly fiddling with the knot that held her trousers over her waist.

"Do you want to see more?" He nodded dumbly. "I thought you would," she said as she untied the knot and pushed the leggings to the floor. Before he could even think Rylar stood and kissed his again, pushing her body up against his. While she did she pushed on his own leggings until they too fell to the ground. Rathon shivered as her warm fingers wrapped around his member. She let his mouth go and looked down, then back up at his eyes. She connected their lips one last time and then sank down to her knees.

As her mouth enveloped him, he pushed back her hair and held back it back. As she quickened her pace, his breath became labored. She began to push him into her mouth harder and faster. Just as they passed a minute and a half, Rathon growled as he expelled his load. Rylar moaned in appreciation. She stood and lay on the bed, her legs spread out as far as they would go. Liquid ran down one side of her leg as she said, "No more. Do it now." Rathon licked his lips as he positioned himself. She moaned with pleasure as he pushed himself into her. Rathon began to move back and forth, almost pulling out of her only to push himself back in further than before. The walls inside her tightened around him as he continued to pump. Her cries began to become more frantic as he pulsated faster and faster. Rathon uttered a groan and Rylar screamed in ecstasy as they reached the peak of their climax. Just as Rathon was about to release, Rylar opened her eyes and said with a voice so enthralled with lust he hardly understood her, "Come with me. Show me what a Rider can do in bed."

Without a second of thought or hesitation, Rathon sent the force and will from his limbs out into the physical world, propelling him backwards against the opposing wall before he had a chance to release inside of Rylar. He caught himself before he impacted the wall, relying on Zodion's training to stop himself in mid-air. Then he lowered himself to the ground and slammed his fist against the door to stop Rylar from running out of the room. She back stepped quickly, keeping her eyes wherever he went.

"Speak," he said.

"Any particular subject," she responded in a low, dry voice.

"Start with how you know I'm a Rider, and then you can move on to why you have seduced a Rider like this."

Rylar scoffed. "Should have controlled myself a bit more? One line at the peak of climax and I give myself away. I know you are a Rider because I saw the gedway ignasia on your palm earlier today. As for why I seduced you," her malicious smile widened. "I'll keep that to myself. Now, I'll be leaving."

As she reached for the door, he opened his palm and sent a wave of power towards her, throwing her back onto the bed. When she recovered, he stepped up above her, glowering down at her. She returned his gaze in kind; a cold, indifferent gaze that betrayed no emotion. "Are you going to force yourself on me now?"

"No," he said, trying to summon the tone Zodion had used when they first met. "I don't think I will. I think, instead, I will let you go and let you know how much of a whore you truly are. You care not for me; only for my power and influence. And what influence I have you do not know."

Rylar lifted an eyebrow scornfully. "A Rider's influence can only go so far."

"And what of that of a prince?"

Rylar opened her mouth confidently to respond, but then a look of shook came over her face, as she comprehended that he spoke the truth. "That...isn't possible," she said through clenched teeth. "He said you wouldn't be here when..." She snapped her mouth shut before she finished her sentence.

"Who?" He said, suddenly interested. "Who said I wouldn't be here?" She shook her head and kept her mouth sealed shut.

He shrugged. "Fine. As a Rider, I deem you to be a credible threat. I am now going to wrench the information from your mind. Prepare yourself." He reached outward with his mind to where her thoughts should lie. The area where her consciousness should reside was barren. _She's being protected_, he thought. "Very well," he said when he had scrutinized the location twice. "Makes little difference." Without speaking another word, he donned his cloths and left, keeping her under the force of his energy all the while. Only once he was a hundred yards from the house did he release the spell.

* * *

><p>Rathon wandered through the city for a while after he left Delnoon's home, contemplating what had happened. He was loath to admit it, but what she had done hurt Rathon, because it had revealed to him that if any woman ever claimed she loved him, there would be the likelihood that she was just using him for his power. As he walked around the city, he looked at the minds of the young men therein, and wondered what it would be like to suddenly not be a Rider, not be a prince, and instead have the insecurity of a commoner. He watched the men court woman that he himself found attractive, and for a moment, he felt a stir of respect for those men. <em>It must be so difficult courting a woman without the leverage of power and influence<em>, he thought. Then, like a shadow revealing itself in the light, Katelyn stepped around the corner of an alleyway, her arms crossed.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

He smiled and said, "I believe, humbly, that I may have learned this...lesson I was meant to." Katelyn's eyebrows rose with muffled surprise. She stepped aside and held an arm out.

"Let us walk." When he stepped beside her she said, "Tell me."

Without reserve, Rathon began to describe the past few hours to Katelyn, for he knew that without knowing everything about what had happened, she would not deem him approved. She nodded occasionally as he spoke, but not at the times he would have expected. She once dipped her head when he spoke of how he used energy to blast himself away from Rylar. For almost two hours, they wandered the city together, for near the end of his tale, Katelyn began sharing her own experiences during the small amount of time allotted to this stage of their training. Near noon, they stopped at an eating hall on the far east of town, near the Ramr. Rathon and Katelyn sat in wooden chairs and she said, "You have made substantial progress. We will celebrate by buying whatever food we want." Rathon smiled cheerfully. He enjoyed having her company, and for a split moment, living in Bullridge no longer seemed like a punishment. Then she continued, "I regret to say, however, that you have yet to learn the most crucial lesson." Before he could protest, she raised her hand. "I will accredit you with a reward for the largest part of this training you have completed this day. However, the smallest part yet left to you is the most important. Without it, this entire training will have been in vain." Then a warm smile came to her face and all Rathon's anger melted away. "Abide a little while longer, Rathon. It will not be forever that you are kept here. These are the final trials before becoming a full Rider. Will not you let yourself be free from your anger this one day, and celebrate your achievement with me?"

Rathon sighed and shook his head, a small but sure smile on his lips. "As you wish, Katelyn."

They continued talking until the serving woman came, and Rathon ordered food in abundance that seemed odd to him. Only four months ago, he wouldn't have even considered eating in that place. After months of having his expectations lowered, however, he found the food given to him to be delicious. He mentioned this to Katelyn and she nodded her head with an approving smile. "One of the minor points of this training is to teach Rider's the determination with which commoners survive. Their bravery surpasses many of those that live on Vroengard." As the hours passed, Rathon loosened his grip on his anger as he never had before, and he was astonished by how much happiness surrounded him. Katelyn alone was like a sun of joy beside him. She seemed unperturbed by his use of magic. When he asked her about this she only said, "You choose to break the rules only at a time when they needed to be broken."

Then a loud crack came from behind them as a man slammed his fist against the wood table then a smack of skin against skin. Rathon and Katelyn turned to see a hulking man in a far table, standing over a small girl of maybe fifteen. The man's face was contorted from the effects of alcohol, as well as anger.

"What the bloody hell is this!" he roared. "Am I some unique man who you treat as poorly as you can? I ordered beer, not a cup of tea!" The girl pushed herself up. A line of blood ran down the side of her cheek, which carried a growing bruise.

"I'm..." She stopped and clenched her cheek. "I'm very sorry. We've had many customers come in today, more than usual, and I...must have gotten them mixed up." She flinched as the man raised his arm to strike her again.

He chuckled as he watched her reaction.

"Your bravery matches your looks: inadequate and unworked on." Rathon pushed his chair back and stood, ready to intercede, when Katelyn placed a hand on his.

"Don't," she said softly.

He looked back at her in surprise. "We're riders. Isn't this what we're meant to stop?"

"A small dispute between patron and serving woman over the delivery of their requested items? No, that is not our job to stop. Our job is to stop that which will not stop itself. Sit back down." He pulled his hand out from under hers.

"No, I'm stopping this."

"If you do, you'll be stripped of your Rider's status, as well as your prince's." Rathon froze, his blood turning to ice.

"You must be joking," he said in a sputtering voice.

She looked up at him with a guarded expression. "If you cannot follow the simple order to take your seat, how can we rely on you to end someone's life if you must?"

Rathon looked back at the girl and moved to sit, but then looked more closely at her expression of fear. _She has no power to defend herself_, he thought. For the first time in his entire life, Rathon felt protective of the girl. She was so helpless, he wanted to rush to her defense, regardless how big the man was in front of her. "For some reason," he said to Katelyn. "I think I'm okay with that." He stepped forward and said, "Stop!" Both the girl and the man looked him.

"Rathon," Katelyn said. "This is your last warning. Sit back down and we will forget this happened."

"If I leave this girl to this man's mercy, I will never forget it," he responded. The man standing over the girl stepped forward as well.

"This is no place for younglings. Why don't you go running off to mama?" He had already turned away when Rathon called on his training from Zodion.

"Insults are the lowest form of self-doubt. They betray the belief that you do not possess the ability to overcome your enemy with your own strength alone."

The man turned back to him slowly. "What did you just say to me, kid?"

"Attempting to threaten your opponent by pretending not to hear them is the most prehistoric method of intimidation, born in pre-recorded eras of time when men were not even so intelligent as to make weapons."

The man raised arms and cracked his knuckles. "Guts. I enjoy that in a victim." Then he charged at Rathon, raising his right fist to crush Rathon. Rathon was prepared. He jumped to the side, propelling himself sideways with energy, landed and stepped forward so he was once again in line with his opponent. The man staggered after his fist went forward without the expected stop.

"Staggering," Rathon said, "indicates a lack of balance and therefore a lack of any training whatsoever."

The man charged again, this time attempting to trap Rathon against the wall. Focusing his energy, Rathon jumped into the air and flew over the man, landing behind him with a confident air.

"Your entire fighting style relies on crushing your opponent in one shot. You depend on your enemy going and staying down after one powerful blow, but what happens when the opponent dodges that attack? What strategy do you have to fall back on other than your first?"

The man bellowed and charged him once more. This time he raised both hands over his head, ready to crush whatever stopped them. Rathon did not move. Instead, he tightened his muscles, drew back his arm and punched the main in the gut. The man looked down at the fist and laughed. "I think the girl can punch harder than you."

Rathon braced himself and sent a burst of energy through his arm and into the man, sending him flying back into the opposing wall, where he fell to the ground, unconscious. "Clearly," said Rathon as he straightened and reached up and rubbed his arm. Regardless of his training, the transfer of pure energy from one body to another was difficult.

Walking slowly he went to the girl and knelt beside her. "Let me see your cheek," he said softly. "I am a healer." The girl lowered her hands, for she had covered her eyes when the fighting began, and showed him the bruise. A blotch of skin nearly three inches across was marred with red and blue. He did not heal it, since magic of that art was forbidden, but he did give the wound his strength and urged it to heal, a trick he had learned from Aesire. After a minute, the bruise ceased to exist.

The girl tentatively touched her cheek, then pressed all five fingers down and looked at him in awe when she felt no pain. "Thank you," she said after a long moment.

"It is my pleasure. What is your name?"

"Naydel, daughter of Cecile."

"And I Rathon son of..." he paused as he caught himself. After a moment of thought he said, "Zodion." He looked at her for a moment, noting that he felt like she was still in danger. "Why do you stay here? Do you have family in Bullridge?"

"No. I-" She lowered her gaze. "I don't have the money to leave."

"Well," he said with a smile. "That is no longer the case." He reached into his cloak and pulled the hard object out. Katelyn stood with an air of shook as she saw what was in his hand. His scroll, identifying him as a Rider and prince. He proffered the scroll to her. "I give this to you. Do you know how these work?"

"No, sir," she said. Her eyes had yet to shift from his. He unrolled the scroll and showed her his symbol.

"This is my symbol. That symbol is one in thousands, but no two are identical. Now, coins are given to coin keepers in any of the cities and they put the coins' amount into your symbol's credit. Then you but show the symbol when you purchase something. At the end of the month the person whom you bought from sends the amount you spent to the coin keepers and they transfer the money to their symbol. And the cycle continues like that." He smiled as rolled up the scroll and handed it to her. "There is enough coin in this symbol, for instance, for you to purchase a three mast ship, hire a crew and completely outfit it for a voyage anywhere. Although, I doubt you would do such extravagant things with it. If ever you need to contact me, write your message on a note and send it out with this symbol and I will receive it." A sudden urge to go above that touched him. "And if ever you wish to cease traveling, and wish for a place to call your home, you have but to send word to me and I will guide you to my home, wherever that may be and there you may live, until the end of your days or until the desire to continue on the road should touch you."

Naydel looked at the scroll, then to Rathon, then back to the scroll and then rested on Rathon. Then she sat forward and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Even after feeling the fire of Rylar's embrace, he thought the compassion he felt right then was the best feeling he had ever felt. When she dethatched herself from him, a line of tears was running down her cheek.

"Thank you," she said through the tears.

"It's my pleasure," he said, standing. He returned to Katelyn said, "I'd be more than happy to obey your order to sit now. Does it still stand?" She nodded. He sat and took a draft of water.

"Rathon," she said.

"Hmm?"

"Congratulations. You have just passed the final test of your training here."


	8. Chapter 8 no cool name

Rathon stood with his pack slung over his right shoulder beside Katelyn who was equally burdened. They stood on Bullridge's western side, awaiting Arani's arrival. Rathon glanced over his shoulder at Bullridge, thinking, _I don't think I'll ever forget my time here. What a fool I've been all my life. All my years I've thought I was above these people; in power, in bravery, in status. And while my rank may be greater than theirs, they are far braver than me._ He set his shoulders and said, "You promised you would explain all of this."

"I promised I would, under the condition that you swear never to speak of these things to a Rider who has not undergone this training. They must learn it for themselves."

"You have my undying word."

"Good," she said, hoisting her pack into a more comfortable position. "This training, the training that all Riders in the future will undergo, is to teach them that those under them are not as different from them as they think. That you know. But the most important lesson is that those under you should be treated as if they were above you, meaning that by the end of the training you should be willing to sacrifice anything to stop harm from coming to them, whether it should be injury, the loss of status, or death, just like you did with Naydel. You knew what you were doing; you knew what the repercussions would be if you choose to aid her and thereby defy a direct order from a superior. In spite of that, however, you willingly chose to step forward against a superior foe to protect someone you did not know. The goal of this training, Rathon, is that in the future when you look on someone that is in a situation similar as Naydel's, you see her and you act on it, throwing yourself in harm's way to protect them. And you protect them with everything you have; for our mission, the Rider's mission is to guard those who cannot guard themselves. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said solemnly. "I understand completely. One thing does confuse me slightly. I was too angry when we left to ask you. If this is the final stage before becoming a Master Rider, why are you and Brom still in training?"

Katelyn sighed. "For appearances mostly. Eragon doesn't want the newer Rider's thinking of us as complete Masters."

"Why?"

"Ask yourself why we have been here for nearly four months to understand the answer to your question."

They stood silent for a moment. "I wonder if I'll ever see Naydel again."

A smile flickered across Katelyn's face. "Something tells me her role in your life is far from over. You wouldn't have given her your scroll otherwise."

"You haven't spoken much of that, I might add. Aren't you the least bit curious how I managed to take my scroll with me?"

"You condensed the air around the scroll using the energy from your body, willing and rendering it invisible. A play of energy, I imagine, you learned from Zodion." Rathon's hand tightened on his pack. She continued with a smile. "Do you think the eyes of The Mist are blind?"

"The eyes of The Mist?"

"Aesire." She chuckled. "It seems that after his days of Lunarmist ended, he got the nickname 'The Mist.' I don't understand why."

"That's an odd nickname," came the happy voice from behind them. Rathon turned and smiled as he saw Naydel coming up behind them. Behind her was a large carriage with two white stallions pulling it, an elder man sitting in the rider's seat. Naydel had bought new cloths; a white dress cut at the ankle that shimmered in the new day sun. When she stopped before them, she bowed at the waist and said, "I bid you farewell, Rathon, son of Zodion." One of Katelyn's eyebrows twitched up a bit. "I wish you the fairest of travels, to whatever land or realm you journey to."

"And to you, Naydel, daughter of Cecile," Rathon replied, dipping into even a lower bow. "May my symbol bring you luck and fortune."

She rose and he followed suit. "I wish to tell you, my Lord and Savior, that I do intend on holding you to your promise of granting me a home." She smiled uncertainly. "Unless of course that promise was meant in humor."

Rathon returned her smile. "Naydel, daughter of Cecile, I know not where the orders of my Master will take me next, but I swear to you on the bones of my ancestors that no matter the day or hour you will always have a place in my house."

Naydel lowered herself into another bow. "Thank you, you are most kind. If you will excuse me, then, I will be leaving this city."

"Go. And may the Gods smile and rejoice over you."

Naydel smiled, bowed one last time and then returned to her carriage, where she stepped up with the help of her driver into the driver's double seat. The elder man clicked his tongue to the horses and they trotted off to the north, heading in the direction of Dras'Leona.

"Rathon!" came the carrion call of anger.

He turned, as did Katelyn, to the source of the voice. "Greetings, Rylar," he said emotionlessly.

The girl staggered up to them with a furious scowl on her face. She stopped ten feet away from him, glaring at him with an expression that would have set a bush ablaze.

"I know you're a Rider so I'd guess she is as well," she said, pointing at Katelyn. "So after a bit of looking around the Rider's records, and a bit of guess work, I would say you're here on your equivalency training."

Katelyn raised her hand, forestalling Rathon's response. "Though the riders do not keep hidden their training stages, except from those who live on Vroengard, the teaching of our younglings is to be shared with no one."

Rylar smoothed out the front of her dress. "Well, by the term equivalent, I dare say his Majesty Rathon would speak with me in private."

Katelyn looked ready to retort, when Rathon stepped forward. "It's alright, Katelyn. I will hear her in private."

Katelyn narrowed her eyes. "I do not believe that is wise, Rathon. As an elder rider, I am instructing you not to speak to her."

"And as your prince," Rathon responded, as gently as he could. "I am ordering you to step down." Katelyn glanced between the two of them, then dipped her head and retreated to a distance, though she did not leave eyesight of them.

"Yes, your Highness," she said as she stepped away.

When she was out of ear shot, Rylar turned away from her, so that Katelyn could not read her lips, and said, "If you think you can get away from me by escaping to your little island, you are poorly mistaken."

"Not at all. You aren't as threatening as you think you are."

"This is not over, Rathon."

In that one instant Rathon understood everything. "So that's it, is it? You want the power and status that being the wife of a Rider comes with?" He uttered a laugh. "Perhaps with some other Rider, but never with me."

"Just wait," she said with a confident, almost cocky smile.

"I'm curious. As to why are you so confident in yourself? With a flick of my will I could send you flying a thousand miles away."

Rylar burst into laughing. "But you won't, will you? Alternatively, to put it another way, you cannot. Your conscience no longer allows it. You have made this much easier for me this day, Rathon."

Rathon's ear twitched and he fought back as smile as heard a distant roar. "Be weary of the fire you have lit. Feed it too much and it will envelop you."

"You are vastly underestimating me."

"How so?" he asked, using his magic to condense the air in her ears so she would not hear the approach of the dragon that now plummeted from the skies, less than five hundred feet overhead.

"I have methods far more...graphic than I used on you yesterday."

"Is that so?" The beating Arani's wings now vibrated the air.

"I am powerful enough to take down a rider," she said confidently.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rathon saw a shimmer of ruby red as the dragon pulled up behind them. _Leonis,_ he said, opening his mind. After four months of living in Bullridge he had completely forgotten that barriers still were up around his mind. Leonis filled his thoughts with his presence.

_How are you, Rathon?_

_Land behind me, quickly. And make a show of it. There's no time to explain._

_As you wish!_ Rathon released his hold on Rylar's ears just before Leonis let loose a blood-chilling roar. Fire erupted from his maw as tilted his head to the skies, landing behind them with the crash that shock the earth. He stood up on his back legs and continued his ululation. Rylar spun towards the red dragon and remand frigid as the red dragon crashed back to the earth and growled at her. Rathon turned towards Leonis and said over his growl, "Behold my dragon! Leonis, son of Saphira who is dragon of the King." He looked over at her and said, "Whatever is the matter? Did you not seconds ago claim to have power enough to overcome me? If conquering me is your desire, conquering this is what you must do." He held out a hand to Leonis. "So overcome it. Prove what power you possess."

Rylar took a shuttering breath, looked at him, mouthed, "This isn't over," and then fled. Leonis ceased his growl and lifted a claw to lick it.

_Your brother sent me instead of Arani._

_Why?_

_It was a bet, I believe, he had with some of the other Riders. Something about if you could complete the training inside a year he would allow me to ferry you home._

Rathon clenched his fist, tightened his jaw, but then, thought better and let them relax. "_Well_," he said, both in his mind and aloud. "_I'm upset he has that low of an opinion of me and I wish he did not have it. However, he will do what he sees fit to do and I cannot stop him. I accept ans acknowledge that_."

Leonis inspected him. _The training truly has changed you, young one._ That name had always irritated Rathon when Leonis called him it. However, it did not anymore.

"I am young," he said, "as young as I ever care to be. I have much to learn. By title I may be a Master Rider, but to myself I will always be an apprentice."

"You have grown," Katelyn said, as she stepped around Leonis. "More than I ever expected. I find you more than satisfactory for advancement."

Rathon bowed his head. "Thank you, Katelyn-elda."

* * *

><p>Nayter passed the length of the King's Hall, running her hands over each other in anticipation. Her wolf ears twitched at the slightest sound, her tail flicked at the smallest of movements. She was agitated that she felt like she was about to burst from the inside. <em>He's returning,<em> she thought_. Rathon is returning. I knew he wouldn't take as long as Brom said he would; I knew it! He's so…amazing. He's so strong and smart._ Butterflies flew through her stomach as she thought of the young Rider who had set forth to some strange city four months ago.

"My child," said a soft voice. Nayter turned, though she did not need to in order to know who was there. Hola, garbed in a russet dress that almost matched her hair, sat in a far corner of the hall. Nayter rushed to and embraced her mother. She and Aesire had left a month ago to scout of Black Chamber members in the city of Kuasta. Hola sniffed the air and said, "You smell nervous. He returns?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly. She stepped away and sat in a chair beside Hola. "He completed the training in four months."

"You say that with a fair deal of…pride almost. The time certainly does not break a record. Why is this then?"

"Because," she said with a lowered gaze. "I think I might love him."

Hola reached out and took her daughter's hand. "Be careful of love, my dear Nayter. It can make you do things that you swore you never would."

"Do you disapprove of him?"

"I am neutral to him. Whatever happens is for him to decide."

The doors to the king's chambers opened and Eragon strode out, quickly followed by Aesire, who was talking softly with him. As he noticed them, Aesire stopped speaking. Eragon ascended and sat in his throne, a weary look on his face, while Aesire went and embraced his daughter. After a short conversation about Rathon, Aesire returned to stand at the base of the throne, as did Hola.

"What is wrong?" Hola asked. "You look very worn."

Eragon drew a hand down his face. "Two years ago, the Black Chamber was so small I wouldn't even put their number at two dozen. In those two years, they seem to have grown to hundreds, maybe thousands of men. Men, who, by the way, blend in with every other man like a drop of water in an ocean. And as if that were not bad enough, it seems they now have magicians in their midst, for the items destroyed in one of their previous raids far exceed the power of man to do away with." He looked down at Aesire. "Alright, I give in. What ingenious strategy have you for ridding the world of this Black Chamber, this weed that grows everyday, seeking to sufficate us?"

Aesire's face was solemn. "I have given my council. You know what is right and needed." He glanced at Nayter, then back at Eragon. "They are...ready."

"Are you sure? Rathon alone presents a hundred different problems. He's too young."

"He completed his time in Bullridge in less than four months, far sooner than any of us reckoned upon. That amount of time for him is indicative of changing. Brom and Katelyn, I know first hand, are ready. Make your own choice on whether or not Rathon is. But ask yourself this: is there someone better suited for this task?"

"You."

Aesire humorlessly chuckled. "No thank you. I have carried this weight for long enough as it is. My entire life it has burdened my legs, bowed my shoulders and lowered my head under it's pressure. It's high time I pass it onto another; and there is no one else I trust it to then Brom."

When Eragon paused Hola said, "For my part, I see Katelyn as the perfect successor. I could continue to carry it, but I wouldn't want to deprive Katelyn."

"Mother, father," Nayter said, feeling as though she was not supposed to hear what they were saying. "I think I'll be going now. Katelyn and Rathon should be returning any time now, and I wish to there to great them."

"Goodbye, Nayter," Eragon said after her parents bid her farewell. "Please make sure the door is strongly sealed after you leave." Nayter stood and exited the Hall. The last word she heard Eragon say before the Hall doors closed was, "ShadowLight."

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><p>Nayter leaned against the doors of the hall for a moment, taking to heart all her mother and father had said about Rathon. <em>If he reciprocates your feelings, you will be able to know. And if he doesn't, be glad in your friendship.<em> She turned and took a step back, finding herself face to face with Brom. He held a thick book in his hand while his other was resting between the two previous pages.

He looked her over and commented dryly, "I apologize for the way I treated you the day Rathon left. You are more then welcome in my riders' hall, provided it be at an hour when the sun has not yet set in the sky." After a moment, she dipped her head graciously.

"Thank you, Master Rider."

Brom looked at his book for a moment then back at her, where his eyes remained, searching, probing for some expression or feeling. "Speaking of Rathon, he is returning today. What think you of that?"

"What mean you?"

"Be you happy, upset, surprised, disappointed? I account it a victory on his part that he completed it in less then a half year. I'm surprised he is capable of so much. Aren't you?"

Nayter composed herself and said, "If what you say about your disbelieve in Rathon's abilities is true, you must also believe him to lack the necessary talents to take the throne?"

"Irrelevant. When Eragon steps down, I will inherent the throne."

"Ah. So your argument is predicated on the fact you shall be king and he shall not?"

"Indeed," Brom said, his voice slightly raised.

"Then answer me this. What power that he does not wield now as a prince, will you enjoy in an indefinite and undetermined amount of years?" Without awaiting a response, she walked past him and walked down the steps that led up the King's Hall.

Behind her, Brom closed his book sharply and said loudly, "Oh, it had nearly slipped my mind. I forgot to tell you. Rathon found a woman in Bullridge. Rumor has it they made love from dusk to dawn." Nayter's arm went rigid. She stopped and looked back at him. His back was turned to her as he descended the opposing stairwell. He stopped as well and cast a single eye back at her. Sparks of amusement brimmed his eye, along with glints of hardened anger and several indeterminable emotions. "But, from what I gather from what you said, that news shouldn't affect you in the slightest, now should it, Daughter of The Mist?" Then he left.

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><p><strong>Okay, for two reasons I don't have chapter reviews. One, I've very tired after a long day of work; people want a lot of sporting goods on July 4th. And two, because of FanFiction's awesome redesigning of the website it tells me I don't have any reviews. So, under the assumption all of you enjoyed the previous chapter I will simply say thank you. If you wrote something of a bit more gravity that I need to respond to, please email it to me. <strong>


	9. A Short Return

**Owltalon: :) Sorry for taking more than a week. **

**FlexManSteel: :) Exactly what I thought.**

**Antclift: Oh, do not worry. There are a couple more to come. **

**Highandlow: :) Thank you.**

**Sorry, my beta, for updating this before you got it back to me. I just assumed that you were too busy or my email was broken since it's been a week. **

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><p>With a great roar, Leonis dipped out of the clouds and towards the palace on the island. Rathon tightened his arm around his dragon's saddle as the forces of gravity and speed tried to rip him from his perch. A great crowd stood awaiting their arrival and let out a loud cheer as Leonis touched down. Rathon unstrapped himself and jumped down to Leonis' foot and thence to the ground. Katelyn jumped down beside him, lifting an arm to the people that chanted her name. Brom and Eragon approached him, Brom with his usual dark passive expression and Eragon with weary curiosity. Rathon and Katelyn knelt before the King.<p>

Eragon raised his arm, silencing the crowd. "Rise, my Riders." Katelyn and Rathon stood. "Katelyn, what have you to report?"

Katelyn glanced at Rathon, then said, "He is insufferably uncaring for his personal safety; casting himself into the path of danger to protect someone he did not even know the first name of. Also, he gave this unknown person his Rider's symbol, as well as an oath to shelter her in the future." She smiled widely. "I find him sufficient."

Eragon nodded and inspected Rathon. "I welcome you, then, Rathon my own son, into the ranks of Master Riders. What have you to say?"

Rathon dipped his head, a formality that he had used before but had never meant until then. "I shall never consider myself a Master, Lord, for I have far too much to learn. As such I will always consider myself to be an apprentice to the world."

"Well spoken," Brom said, the faintest hint of an approving tone in his voice. He and Katelyn stepped closer to each other and Rathon heard Katelyn murmur, "How have the attacks been?" Then he heard Brom say in an equally low tone, "They're escalating at an uncomfortable pace."

Eragon clapped his hands to the three of them. "If I might have your attention, Master Rider's. I wish for all of you to attend me in my throne room at the stroke of midnight tonight."

Brom's eyebrow lifted. "If I might be so arrogant to inquire, your Majesty, why?"

"I have an announcement of the utmost urgency. Be forewarned, you will not attend me alone; for I am gathering all of the noblemen on the island to this meeting, as well as anyone who wishes to come."

"What will we be…discussing," Brom asked.

"The rising threat of the Black Chamber and how I plan to thwart it. I suggest you sleep quickly, for after tonight I do not think you will sleep easily again for some while yet to come."

"I think I will take that advice," Rathon said with a pained smile. "I haven't slept since morning before last and neither has Leonis."

"Go then. Come to my throne room at midnight and do not enter until you hear my signal."

"Yes, Lord," they all said simultaneously.

Rathon looked up at Leonis. _Are you well enough to fly? Myself, I think I fancy the fixed earth for the time being._

_I'm going to take a bath in the ocean for a while. My scales are as filthy as the dirt at your feet._

_See you back at the hall, then._ With that, Leonis jumped and wobbled as he slowly glided to the oceanfront. Several younger dragons leapt up to do likewise to keep him company. Rathon went through the mass of people to his chambers, where he ascended his staircase to the second level of his room and collapsed into his bed. He slept all through the day and into the night.

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><p>A freezing splash of water collided with Rathon's face. He yelped and fumbled in the darkness. He sat sputtering and gasping until he saw Brom standing over him.<p>

"Get up," his brother said. "We have to be at the throne room in less than twenty minutes."

Rathon staggered up and shook his head to get the water out of his hair. "Was that entirely necessary?" His brother did not respond. As he pulled a fresh tunic on his brother climbed the ladder to the top level at the window that was set there. When Rathon was done Brom still stood there. "What are you looking at?"

"The moon." Rathon examined it. The white sphere in the sky seemed unremarkable to him.

"What about it?"

"It shouldn't be full for another week." Brom examined it for a moment longer and then said, "Well, be as that may, we have to get to Eragon. Let's go."

They both hurried out of the Rider's hall where they found Katelyn standing by the entrance. She was garbed in a green tunic and dark red leggings. "Hurry up," she said. As quickly as the three of them could manage, they hurried to the throne room. Running two steps at a time up the stairs that led up to it, they stopped before the double oak beam doors.

Rathon rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned.

"Get that out of your system now, before the signal is called," Brom said. He glowered at the oak beams and the people within. "When we enter try and wipe every reaction or feeling from your face, specifically surprise. They do nothing but aid the motives of those self-righteous self-centered louts we call nobles." Rathon nodded his understanding. Katelyn opened her mouth to speak but a drum boomed throughout the building, signaling them.

"Never mind," she whispered as the doors began opening.

The three of them entered the well-lit throne room hall that was packed to an extreme that astounded Rathon. There could have easily been two thousand people in the throne room. At the end of the hall sat Eragon and Arya in their high thrones, King and Queen of the world. Standing to left, in between, and to the right of them were Aesire, Hola and Zodion. Following Brom's advice Rathon fought back his reactions to the three persons being there, for he had not expected them. As he walked, Rathon could feel the eyes of the nobles upon him, studying him for the slightest reaction that they could twist to their advantage. He knew they looked at him because he seemed the easiest to manipulate. The three of them stopped before the thrones and knelt on their right knee.

Eragon spoke in a loud voice that seemed all the louder because of the echoes it created. "Katelyn. Brom. Rathon. Rise, and look your Lord in the eye." They all did as they were instructed. "Rathon, my son, you are the only one I have told, at least in part, about what I am going to do tonight."

"When, my Lord?"

"When you left us, some four months ago, I told you I had a plan for the three of you. Tonight, that plan will take root." Eragon stood from his throne and spoke to the entire assemble. "Two years ago, somewhere in the foul caverns of the abyss, came hatred from this island and what it stands for and protects. That hatred spawned and took hold of people's hearts. Over the course of these past two years the Order of the Black Chamber has grew. They could never launch an assault on us here in Vroengard, but in the main body of Alagaesia our people suffer." Eragon gripped his chest. "I will never be content to sit and watch as my people are killed, or deprived of food and shelter, so long as I have blood in veins and my dragon by my side. For that reasons, I say to you now, the Black Chamber must be eradicated."

A babble of confused voices sprang up, eventually overlapping Eragon's voice. Zodion stepped forward and said with the force of his energy amplifying his voice to monster levels, "Silence!" The force of that one word, and the energy behind it, shook the windows in their frames. The people in the crowd quieted. Zodion stepped back to his place.

"King," Katelyn said. "I will act as a voice for the people. How do you intend to destroy that which you have attempted to destroy for two years with no successes?"

"A just question," Eragon said, smiling and reseating himself. Aesire leaned over and whispered in Eragon's ear. Eragon nodded. "I will keep that from you no longer, then. I cannot destroy the Black Chamber from this island, and nor can I leave it. Therefore, you three will go in my place."

The confused murmuring continued for a moment before Zodion took a warning step forward. "How is that different," Brom asked.

Eragon leaned his head against his hand. "The weight of kingship is a heavy one, Brom. I only hope you never have to come to that realization as I have. Listen to me closely, children, and heed me well. This Black Chamber must be dealt with; but neither you nor I can do it from this island. Therefore, that being said, this is what I propose. Listen carefully, and think over what I say; for I have long thought over what I am about to say." Eragon composed himself. "This night, before the sun's first rays touch the skies, you will each travel to your own city, each with one of the three races, and from that city, you would rule as Kings and Queens over the races."

The roar that filled the hall then was louder than Zodion's amplified voice. The noble's outraged voices were the loudest, shouting incoherent arguments against Eragon that melded together with the others until they were like the crashing of a waterfall. However, they were not alone. People of lower ranks vehemently opposed Eragon's idea.

Rathon was speechless, as was Katelyn. Even Brom's face, that's passive expression almost never wavered, was lined with shock. When at last Aesire calmed the nobles, after almost fifteen minutes, Brom said, "Father." (A name he never called Eragon.) "I am…honored beyond words, but…is this wise? We are but children."

Arya spoke up then. "Perhaps, if merit by age, you are children. However, you are far more. You are first of the new generation of the Riders, reborn like a phoenix from its ashes. And that is a title that no Man, Dwarf, or Elf can claim authority or stature over. If you merit by your standing in the world, as I and Eragon do, you are among the eldest in this world; excluding the two of us, of course." Blood was pounding in Rathon's ears at a tempo that made it hard to think.

"There are other details," said Eragon gravely. "That you must be aware of before deciding, whether for yay or nay. First, there would be a five-year probationary period of your rule, wherein two things will affect it. You would return on the first day of the first month five years from now; where your tenor as rulers would be examined and it would be determined whether or not you are suitable for continuing as rulers. Now, the two items that will dictate your rule. Number 1: You may not become romantically involved with anyone."

"Why," Katelyn asked. Her voice sounded as though she was recovering from her shock, but was still in a daze from the surprise. Brom's face, in stark contrast, had returned to normal.

Eragon leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "I understand that what I ask is much. The reason for this restriction is that during this five-year testing period, I want to see what you are capable of at your best, without any distractions. Including, love. I understand that love is one of the few things that make this life enjoyable; but it can also be one of the greatest distractions. I understand that is a lot to ask of you Katelyn; with your being in the prime of your adult beauty, but it is required of you. Know this, however. If either of these two are too much to ask, my opinion of you will not be lowered if you reject this calling."

"I, for one," Brom said, "will have no trouble with that first commandment. What is your second restriction, Lord?"

Eragon relaxed in his throne and looked down at them carefully. "This rule, I expect the three of, or at least some of you, will have the hardest time accepting." He took a deep intake of air and let it go out slowly. "You may not, in any way, shape or form, have contact with any of your fellow rulers, which includes written message."

"What," Rathon said loudly. He felt his old anger drawing near again. "What ridicules explanation could you have for such a preposterous rule?"

Aesire's brow darkened. "Your anger is understood, my young one, but misplaced."

"No, Aesire," Eragon said. "It's understandable. This is a radical thing to request." He returned his attention to the still fuming Rathon. "Here is your explanation. I wish that this was not needed, but given the circumstances it is vital." He sighed. "Rathon. What would you do if you were tied down to the ground, drugged so you could not use magic or your energy manipulation, and you were being forced to watch as Katelyn was slowly tortured to death?" Rathon's anger pulled back slightly. He looked down at the ground and thought, _What would I do_? He glanced over at Katelyn, but her eye was fixed on the King.

"I…don't know, your Majesty."

"I thought not. There is a chance, small in the extreme, that the Black Chamber will gather enough followers to initiate war on us. So there remains the possibility that the three of you, or just two, could end up in the situation I just outlined. And if that should come to pass, what Gods there are prevent that day from coming, we do not want watching that to destroy you. Separating you, then, seems like the safest and most harmless way to harden into your minds the reality that someday your closest friends may not be here. Do you understand, my son?"

Rathon lowered his gaze, shame-faced. _This must be as difficult for him to ask as us to accept._

Brom straightened his spin and his face hardened with determination. "Regardless what you ask of me, my King, I will see your will done until I join my ancestors in whatever afterlife may exist. I will accept this role you have for me, your Eminence, without restriction or condition." He knelt on the floor before Eragon. A slow smile flickered across Eragon's face.

"How determined you are, Brom; almost stubborn. You remind me of my father now."

Katelyn knelt then. "I too will accept this role, my Liege, full-heartedly."

Eragon smile redirected to Katelyn. "Ah, and now I see your father in you, Katelyn daughter of Roran. Stubborn as a pampered mule. I'm sure he is very proud of you."

"Thank you, my King," Katelyn murmured. Then Eragon looked at Rathon. Rathon looked at the ground at Eragon's feet and took slow breaths. A year ago all he could think of was how he could one day be a King. On the one hand, Rathon felt angry that Eragon expected so much from him. But as he thought about it, a feeling of happiness came into him as he came to a realization. _He trusts me_, he thought. _And not just with Brisingr or some apprentice Riders...but with an entire race and thousands of miles of land. He truly trusts me._ Never before had Rathon felt like someone _expected_ him to do well. Always he had been looked down upon as the weaker of two sons. Now, though, with the trust and expectation of his father, he felt as if he could do anything. With a feeling of weightlessness, Rathon knelt and said, "By the scales of my dragon and teachings of my Master, I swear to serve you until the end of my days."

Eragon stood and said, "With those oaths taken, I have something the three of you. And it is the reason the three people that stand beside the throne are here." Eragon gestured to the crowd and said, "Once, so long ago that the year has been forgotten in the annals of time, the Elves discovered three Great Spells of such power, they were sealed away. The Spells were more than just magic; they were spirits living inside magic itself. Their names are LunarMist, ShadowLight, and BloodFire. The Elves sealed them inside books to contain their power and by an order of events that even I do not know, they were placed from those books into three small children; only days old; for the books could no longer hold their power. They needed living carriers to restrain their mighty strength. Those three stand before you now."

Rathon examined Aesire with an air of surprise, shock and interest as he began to glow from the inside. With a pained look on his face, he held out a hand as an orb of twisting white and grey lights melded into a sphere on his open palm. "Behold, the Spirit of LunarMist. It is as much a living thing as I am. After I casted my final LunarMist, I lost all control over it, and for ten years it has been growing heavier and heavier. It now feels as though it weighs a thousand tons; even though to any other it is as light as a feather. LunarMist…needs a new carrier."

Then Zodion extended his hand and began to glow, but only half with light. Half of him shimmered as if he was a fire and other was as black as tar. An opalescent orb took shape on his palm and the world around him seemed lit with joy and at the same time dragged down with dispair. "This is the Spirit of ShadowLight. Though its power is mighty indeed, I must admit that I am an unworthy host to it. Therefore, it needs to be given to another."

Hola extended a hand and light as red as Leonis as well as light that seemed to come from flame leapt to her hand as if trained. Her face remained as calm as every during the process. "And lastly," she said, "this is the Spirit of BloodFire. I could continue to bare it, but it cannot continue to bear within me. Everyday its power weakens. And because I do not want its fire to extinguish, I will relinquish it."

Eragon gestured with two fingers to someone and stood. Three children ran forward, each carrying a small pillow with an object upon it and stood before Zodion, Aesire and Hola. As one the three of them lowered their hands, and with them the Spirits of the Spells, and murmured inaudible words. Then three almost simultaneous flashes of pure white filled the room. When the lights reseeded, the three adults lowered their arms and the orbs gone.

"Is it done," Eragon asked.

"It is," Aesire responded, and staggered to a chair, where he sat, looking exhausted. Eragon motioned for one of the children, who stood before Hola, to follow him as he descended the steps that led to the throne. He stopped before Katelyn. "Raise your head," he said. Katelyn did so. "Do you, Katelyn daughter of Roran and Katrina, swear by your honor to protect those who serve you, as well as abide by the rulings made today until five years hence?"

"I do so swear this."

"And do you swear to lead the race appointed to you to the best of your ability, until you either step down from your post or are sent to the grave?"

"On my life I swear this," she responded. Eragon turned to the small child and took the item from his pillow. He held a resplendent crown in between his fingers. Rathon looked up at it in wonder. It seemed to be wrought from pure silver colored red and brazen orange. As he looked at it closer, the colors inside the crown wavered and twisted. They merged the spells with the crown, he realized. _The power that would require fusing a living being with an object_, he thought in awe.

"Then by that oath I, Eragon son of Brom, crown you in the manner of your predecessors." He placed the crown on her head as she lowered it. "I grant you the title and name BloodFire. From this day forward, until you step down from your post, you shall rule over the Beor Mountains and race of Dwarfs as a whole. Rise, Queen of the Great Mountains!" Katelyn rose with an air of confidence that had not been with her only seconds ago.

Then Eragon moved to Rathon. "Raise your head." Rathon slowly tilted his head towards the King. "Do you, Rathon son of Eragon and Arya Shadeslayer, swear by the teachings of your Master that you will serve and protect those under you, without wavering with greed or envy?"

"I swear it."

"And do you swear to abide by these rulings for five years hence, without attempting to find a loophole?"

"I will."

Eragon motioned with his hand for the second of the two children to join him and the first to return to his place. Eragon lifted the crown of the small girl's pillow. Rathon's breath caught as he saw the crown. It was black as onyx, with twisting lines of white veins that crisscrossed over the front of the crown like a spider web.

"Then by that oath," said Eragon, "I crown you in the manner of those who came before you." He placed the crown on Rathon's head. As soon as he did, Rathon felt strength he had not known before surge through his veins. He felt as if he could lift a bolder overhead without a single drop of sweat. He wanted to run out of the hall and swim across the main body of Alagaesia to prove his power. "I grant you the title and name ShadowLight and grant you lordship over the race of Man, until you choose to descend from your throne or are killed. Rise, King of the Great Plains!" Rathon stood, no longer afraid for himself by the wrath of the nobles.

Eragon walked before Brom and motioned for the third and final child to join him. "Raise your head, my child." Brom lifted his eyes so that they were level with Eragon's. "Brom, son of Eragon and Arya Shadeslayer, swear by your pride of being a Rider that you will serve all those who come to you in need and to protect them from all those who would do them harm?"

"Yes, I do."

"And do you swear to travel down the path I have laid out for you without straying from it?"

"Without even flinching to either the left or right, I will do this."

Eragon lifted the third crown. It seemed to be fashioned from marble and grey stone. Like the other two, it twisted and weaved as if it contained a caged tiger, pacing back and forth endlessly. He placed the crown on Brom's head and said, "Then by that oath I crown you like those before you and grant you the title and name of LunarMist, as well as dominion over the race of Elves. Rise, King of the Great Woods!" Brom stood and Rathon thought that he ought to have a cape for how lordly he appeared. Eragon lifted his arms out to either side and said, "Go forth now. Ready your dragon's and meet on the far landing platform in two hours." Despite their previous opposition, the crows burst out into cheers; excluding the nobles who continued to grumble to themselves, for their arguments had lost sway with the people assembled.

Rathon left the hall a totally different man then when he had entered. He had entered a boy and he left a King, who ruled over almost a third the world.

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><p><strong>And now begin the chapters I've been looking forward to writing. :)<strong>

**Did you know that Baskin Robbins once made ketchup ice cream? Did you know that gold doesn't react with the heat of your body? It will stay cool no matter how long you hold it, which is how you tell real from fools' gold. Did you know that there are more nutrients in the cornflake package itself than there are in the actual cornflakes? Did you know (this one frightens me) that the **average office desk has 400 times more bacteria than a toilet.****


	10. Kingship

**Owltalon: :) my beta lost her internet connection**

**FlexManSteel: :) that will be explained in this chapter, and if not this one then the next.**

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><p>Rathon pushed the door to the riders' hall open with a sense of reverence. Only then did it strike him that he truly did enjoy living on Vroengard, among the mightiest of peoples, the Riders. He walked down the hall to his chambers slowly, memories of all the things that had happened to him in this place flashing through his mind. Moon light still flashed through the windows when he reached his rooms. He opened and closed the door, leaning against it and taking a deep breath. The words of Aesire rang in his mind.<p>

_My apprentices, listen to me. These crowns, these spells, are more than just a mark signing you as a King or Queen. They are living things. Wherever you walk, so shall they. Whoever is your enemy so shall they be theirs. They are one with you now. They will never take orders from another unless first bidden by you. You will never walk alone again, my children. Speak their names and your need and their mighty powers will come to you and fulfill your commands. However, be cautious of these powers. With them, you could lay waste to an army of men without lifting a finger or casting a spell. These spells are wild; they always have been and they always will be. No one can tame them. Be wary of them always._

Rathon opened his eyes to the dark room that was blinding. "Light," he whispered. "Give sight to my eyes." The crown on his head shifted and light began seeping from it as it where a waterfall of brightness. The light flowed to the ground, across the floor and up the wall to the ceiling. Before ten seconds were up, Rathon could see as if it were high noon. Outside, the blackness of night remained, for the light stayed in the room where he had bidden it remain. Not a single ray of light existed through the window. When the room was perfectly lit, the light ceased flowing from ShadowLight. Rathon took a deep intake of air and began packing his things. He did not burden himself with the treasures he had collected over the years, but only the things he would require for a day or two of flying and a few personal items. He wanted to begin his new life as a new life; and not with all the trappings of his old existence. A gentle tapping at the door caught his attention.

"Enter," he said, and his voice seemed different to him. The door opened and Nayter stepped in and looked about the room in awe.

"What is this?" she asked breathlessly.

"This," Rathon said as he descended the ladder to the lowest level, "is ShadowLight." He examined Nayter and noted the red brimming her eyes. "You've been crying," he commented.

Nayter touched her eyes with the backs of her hands and quickly said, "No…I haven't. I…get very tired at this hour."

"What can I help you with ?" Rathon asked, wishing there was some way to ease her obvious pain. _I wonder what upset her. Maybe it is Brom leaving. Perhaps she loves him._

Nayter licked her lips and then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his chest. "I will miss you Rathon. All three of you. Katelyn invited me to go with her to the Dwarfs, as her Second hand, and I think I'll accept, but I'll miss you…and Brom."

"We'll be back," he said, slightly caught off guard.

"In five years." Rathon started to hear the slightest drops of tears hitting the ground below. "I'm scared. My entire life I've had the three of you here." Rathon was taken aback. He had never known she considered him such a friend, since she mostly only talked with Katelyn. "Without two of you…I don't know what I'll do."

Rathon placed a hand on the small of her back and hugged her in return. Trying to ease her discomfort, he said, "I cannot tell you what you should do. I am the King of Man and you are not enough of a human that I would claim authority over you. If I could offer advice, it would be to rely on your own strength in the years to come, instead of relying on others. It was inevitable that we would leave and in no way was it your fault or choice. So do not torture yourself over it."

Nayter pulled back and smiled up at him. "You must work on your ability of motivating others."

Rathon chuckled. "I haven't spent much time developing that skill."

Three knocks echoed on the door to his chambers and Brom entered. Feeling nostalgia from the last time he left Vroengard, he thought, _This is almost the exact same circumstances. How truly strange fate is. _Brom examined the two of them.

"Hope I'm not interrupting."

Instead of responding the way Rathon had expected, Nayter turned to him and said with barely restrained emotion, "Why did you say that to me on the steps of the King's hall?"

Brom's eye flicked to Rathon for a moment. "I…don't know what you are referring to and if I did I certainly didn't say it in an ill-meant manner."

Nayter face grew angry, though a tear ran down her face. She shook her head, her wolf ears twitching back and forth. "Again you flee behind the defenses of your incomprehensible form of speaking. What you said that moment hurt me deeper than anything that has ever been said to me since my first breath filled my lungs." Clenching her eyes tighter as her tears intensified she growled, "Wake and greet the light of reality, Brom Eragonson. Whether meant by cruel intentions or the pure heart, your words were misplaced and will not forget them nor forgive you." She placed a finger on her forehead. "A part of LunarMist is inside of me, enthralled into my veins by my Father. Know that on that day you made an enemy with your other self, simply for the pleasure of casting grief onto another. The most foul-tonged curser in the land has ten times the kindness of you. You deserve your crown no more than any one of those arrogant nobles!" With an incoherent cry, Nayter fled the room, brushing past Brom and out the door.

Brom's ordinary face of stone hardened into steel. Even the most base emotions his brother was feeling where now hidden from him. "Are you ready? "he asked Rathon.

"I think so." Rathon grabbed his pack and Brom opened the door. As Rathon was stepping out of it, Brom placed a hand on the opposing door, stopping him. Rathon looked at his brother. Brom's eye looked off in the distance where Nayter was just finishing into the city, then down at the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said, "for how heartlessly I've treated you all our lives. Just know that it wasn't without cause."

Every railing argument he had ever made against Brom for how he treated Rathon leapt into his mind and he opened his mouth to begin his well-rehearsed tirade on his brother, when he stopped himself. He placed a hand on Brom's shoulder. "Whatever you have done I forgive you for. We are brothers and brothers fight, especially when they're princes. We are starting life anew, Brother. Let us leave behind everything that trapped us in our old life and bury whatever grudges we may have."

Brom gripped his shoulder in return. "You have grown. Far more than I ever did. The Rathon that left us four months ago would have spent hours shouting at me for the bastard I have been to you. But now…" He shook his head. "You were a King even before Eragon placed a crown on your head. Let us go now. We are not ordered to be at the landing platform for some time yet, but let us stop at a dining hall and be brothers one last time, shall we?"

Rathon dipped his head. "Nothing would delight me more."

And so the two went to the grandest eating hall in Doru Araeba, and they ate and drank for over an hour, laughing and enjoying each other's company as they never had before. When it was over, and the King's order of presence drew near, Brom said, "Truly will I miss you, my brother, until the very hour I return to this island." Before Rathon had a chance to respond Brom stood and said, "We must get to the landing platform before too much longer."

Rathon nodded and they both left to get their respective belongings. Fifteen minutes later, Rathon ascended the last set of stairs that led to the open landing space for dragons. There stood Eragon, Aesire, Hola, Zodion, Katelyn, Nayter, and Brom, as well as the dragons of those present flying in the skies above. When Zodion noticed him, he snapped his fingers to Zodion and said, "And here is the successor of ShadowLight, even as we finish speaking of him."

Rathon set down his bags and said, "Am I late, my king?"

"No," Eragon said. "Right on time, in fact." He spread his arms and said, "Come before, my Rulers." Katelyn, Brom and Rathon all stepped before him and knelt. "Katelyn to the Dwarfs, Brom to the Elves, and Rathon to the Humans. It pains me to ask this, and by it, I mean no disrespect or doubt, but it is a formality that must be satisfied. You all understand that the lives of every person in this world, whatever their race, is entirely tied back to you as Kings and Queens. If they die or suffer, you alone will be held accountable. You all understand this?" They all nodded. "Good. Then I will let the previous holders of your spirits speak to you."

Aesire stepped forward in front of Brom and smiled down at him. "Brom, my protégé. You, over the years I have known and trained you, have become one of the driest sticks in the mud I have ever met in my life." He placed a hand on Brom's shoulder. "That can be a good thing. But you would do well to enjoy life among a race that enjoys it to the fullest, the elves. That is my advice to you. Take it if that be your desire."

Then Hola strode up to Katelyn. "Though little time we have spent together, I have watched you since you were but a child. And with you, I entrust BloodFire, and the well being of my daughter. If harm befalls her in your service, many debts will need to be paid."

"If I might ask a question," Katelyn said.

"Ask what is in your heart, just as you did the night we returned from your training."

"When the three of you summon the Spirits, Zodion and Aesire looked almost pained by it but you remained calm-faced as ever. Why is that?"

"An apt question indeed. Over years of holding BloodFire inside of me, its flames burnt to a crisp, which is what I meant when I said that its power was fading. That is the reason it did not pain me to summon its spirit form as it did my fellows. Because BloodFire had grown too weak to cause me pain." She cast her eyes at Eragon. "He can attest to its ability to cause pain. However, do not fear that its power still is weak. As the darkness dies with a new sun, so BloodFire's power was restored into the bonfire it was meant to be when it entered a new host. You."

Katelyn dipped her head. "I understand."

Then Zodion stepped in front of Rathon; but said nothing, only looked down at him. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Rathon said, "I wish to thank you, Master, for teaching me in the ways of your art and for entrusting me with ShadowLight."

A small chuckle escaped Zodion and the left side of his mouth inched up into a smile. "Foolishly were both of those powers given to me. I but handed them down to one more worthy of their limits. ShadowLight was different from the other two, my apprentice. It was calling for you, pushing away from me and trying to get to you. You are ShadowLight's chosen bearer. If either LunarMist or BloodFire had been given to you in place of ShadowLight, the spirits might very well have clashed."

"What is the danger in that?"

Zodion's brow darkened. "The Book of ShadowLight says this: ShadowLight was the second of the three great spells found, harnessed, and sealed away for fear of their powers. Legend speaks of the moon crumbling and sun exploding on the day that these three spells were brought together. BloodFire, LunarMist, and ShadowLight were never meant to come into contact. Alone, they are harmless. Two together, they could kill thousands. But all three at once would bring about catastrophe without comparison."

"Master, you do not think such a thing could occur, do you?"

"I would rather act like such an event could occur and find out it could not then act like such an event could not occur and find out it can. Remember that."

Eragon spoke then. "My rulers, look. The sun begins its slow ascent. Time is for you now to depart this island. You all have my blessing. Go, and crush the Black Chamber wherever it may fester."

As Rathon stood and grabbed his pack Katelyn wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. Rathon's heart jumped and he felt suddenly connected to Katelyn.

"Good bye, dear friend," she said.

"It's a separation, not an execution," he stammered.

"It may as well be as such. As soon as we part in the skies we are to act as if the other two have been killed."

"It's not meant to be that dramatic."

"Regardless, I will miss you." She looked up at him. "Promise me that you won't change in the next five years."

"To make that promise would be no different than to promise he will not live; for life is change," Brom said from behind them. "Whether we care to admit it or not. He would change with your presence, Katelyn, as he showed in Bullridge. Let us see if he can grow without it."

After a long moment, Katelyn dipped her head and stepped away. "You have a valid point." Eragon spoke then.

"You each will take turns flying out on your dragons. As soon as this palace is out of view from your dragon's back, the two rules are set in play. Katelyn; you were crowned first, so you will leave first."

Katelyn called Arani and the silver dragon floated down to the platform. There was something mournful about the way the dragon moved. Katelyn leapt up to her shoulders and positioned herself in the saddle, followed in turn by Nayter. "Farewell, my masters." And with that, Arani swept open her wings and leapt into the air, flapping three times to gain altitude in the uncertain air above the waters. In ten minutes, she vanished from sight.

"Brom," said Eragon, "ordinarily I would send Rathon next, in order of crowning, but you have farther to go then him. You will go next." As he spoke the azure Zacaid lowered down to the platform, nestling there and waiting for Brom. Brom climbed up him and sat in his saddle. He dipped his head to those below and then Zacaid leapt of the side of the platform and plummeted down the rock face before snapping open his wings yards before they hit the water. Soon, they vanished as well, for Zacaid flew almost twice as fast as Arani had.

"Rathon," Eragon said expectantly. Even as Zacaid had left, Leonis had landed before them. Rathon jumped up to his shoulders and looked down at them. He wanted to say something, some apology for the way he had acted all his life. In the end, no words came to him.

_Make up in actions what cannot be expressed through word, _Leonis said. _Our Kingdom awaits us and the dawn calls._

Rathon nodded sharply and sat in his saddle. "Goodbye, Father," he said, simply.

"Goodbye, my son," Eragon said, the hints of pride echoing his voice as he looked up at Rathon. Then Leonis let loose a resounding roar, jumped from the palace, opening his wings after falling several yards, and set their course to Ilirea. And so it was that Rathon, reborn as the embodying host of ShadowLight, went to live and rule, as King of Man.


	11. Brom

Brom's eyes slowly flickered open as LunarMist woke him. He sat up in his bed made from the roots of a tree. He draped his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face, trying to dispel the great weight that seemed to press down on his eyelids. After his third failed attempt he stepped up to the basin beside his bed, ran a hand over the top of it and murmured, "Mist." With a faint sound, LunarMist gathered the particles of water in the air and materialized them in the basin, holding them there until Brom said otherwise. He washed his face in the cold water. When he lifted his face from the basin, the water remained in it, not grasping to his face by the strength of LunarMist. With a flick of his thoughts, he ordered LunarMist to release the water, and it did, allowing the liquid to return to its previous state. He did his best not to use LunarMist to satisfy his every desire. However, he did sometimes grow so tired of dealing with the hardships of being a King that he did indulge in LunarMist's power.

In the past three years, since Eragon crowned him and he began his life as LunarMist, the Black Chamber had taken root. The elves were some of the least affected; the only ones who seemed truly unaffected by the Order were the Urgals, but the Black Chamber's influence did touch the Great Woods. In the past four months, the Black Chamber had attacked all manner of elves in and around Du Weldenvarden. Embassies, travelers, caravans, and even some elves living on the edge of the forest.

By the time Brom got word that they had struck, and could marshal forces to repel them, they had vanished as if they never existed. Their constant attacks were mind numbingly difficult to deal with, as nary a few days passed between attacks and they never attacked the same place twice. Therefore, he had sent forces to all the cities and set up an instant reaction group that could respond without his order, so that when the Order struck at a city, those elves could be ready almost ahead of time. The plan had worked, in part. It took the Order about a week to adjust to the fact that they were no longer striking at blind prey, and during that time, Brom's forces had managed to take down eleven men, all of them magic users.

"It bothers me," he said to the youthful elf sitting on the opposite side of the room, "how the Black Chamber is able to penetrate these woods with such ease."

The elf, Ission, who was the son of Däthedr, looked up from the shy bird that flitted in the wind. "Resistance fighters will never be convinced they are incorrect about what they fight for, for it is their belief that they fight for their lives. To do away with all who oppose your choices would be no different than attempting to maintain the world and all in it in a perpetual state of obedience. And to do that, all the people in the world would have to be mindless, at which point their obedience would cease to be of any importance to you."

"Regardless, their fight should be exist solely with those they have a fight with. There is no purpose on making war with those who have done you no wrong, like the elves in Du Weldenvarden."

"It is my belief, or rather speculation, that the Black Chamber sees enemies when they look upon a wondering family on a lonesome road, or a young babe in its bed at night. They kill those people for just the same reason that they would not hesitate to slit your throat given half a chance. Because they _believe _that they are their enemy. It does not matter what we know to be true to them only what they believe."

"I do wonder sometimes," Brom said as he slipped on a fresh tunic, "who in their right mind could have begun this organization?"

Ission stood and help him strap the ties to his boots on. "The Black Chamber is old enough, over a decade old, to have cycled through leaders. It's possible that the first leader was so foolish that he or she could only garner a few followers, and led them poorly at that. Given the increase in numbers of their men, and the cleverness with which they now operate, I would be most surprised if they were under the same leadership."

"You raised a valid point. Whoever that is, I'd like to find them and plunge a knife in their chest."

Ission's eyes narrowed. "One thing does confuse me about them."

"What would that be?"

"In all the attacks, going back some six years, not a single report mentions anything but men attacking. I wonder if the Black Chamber is completely made up of men."

"Perhaps it is. I am glad that they are, however. If I was faced with the idea of killing a woman in cold blood, I'm not sure how I would respond."

His face clearing Ission stood and said, "Whatever the mysteries of this Order are, I have the utmost believe that you shall emerge triumphant. You should be going now. You've slept off much of the day, and there is still much to be done." Before Brom exited his room, Ission said, "That reminds me. Have you yet to choose a Second Hand?"

Brom groaned. A Second Hand was a person who carried out the orders of King or Queen. It was the second highest position in a Kingdom, a general to all generals. Only the King held authority higher than the Second Hand. The only problem was, Brom was not comfortable giving such authority to someone, because it would cause anger and resentment with so many other people. _I wish Eragon would just order me to take a specific person as my Second Hand; that would make this so much less complicated. _"No, I haven't yet, and I don't think I will be any time soon if the nobles keep acting the way they have." The nobles were a key part of the government. Most of them came from rich backgrounds and provided the funds required to run the differing Kingdoms; elf, dwarf and man. However, the mass majority of them gave their money to the government for the sole purpose to raise themselves higher, hoping to grasp power, making them unfavorably greedy and decisive. Because of that, choosing a Second Hand from all the different nobles was task impossible. If he chose one in particular, it would likely infuriate the rest of them so severely that they would withdraw their support.

_This is a difficult position, _Brom thought. _I wish Nayter had come with me instead of Katelyn. _The thought, though meant in truth, almost surprised him, as he had never been overly fond of Nayter. As he examined his mind, he thought, _Yes. I would have liked it very much if Nayter had come with me and not Katelyn. For some reason, that would have pleased me. _A spark of regret flared in him over how he had treated her three years ago, but he quickly quenched it. _Lord Eragon forbade us from having romantic feelings for another and regret for past treatment of Nayter does nothing but plant those seeds. I will not be the one to disregard Eragon's orders. _Brom opened his eyes to find himself standing in front of his throne room, a sub room of Tialdari Hall. He took a deep intake of the crisp air and opened the wooden doors.

Brom stopped as he felt the touch of someone's mind standing just inside the throne room. Brom laid a hand on the dagger in his tunic, thinking the person to be an assassin of the Black Chamber, but then thought, _Better to have a prisoner then a corpse. LunarMist, be ready to subdue this person's mind. _He felt the crown on his head stir, awakening to answer his call. Brom gripped the door key and pulled the door open quickly. He raised a hand out to the person standing before him, LunarMist slithering down his arm to make contact with the person and hold them in place, when he stopped LunarMist's assault.

Standing in front of him was a gorgeous woman of perhaps twenty years of age. The woman's eyes were shadowed by her straight blonde hair, but he could see were colored the deepest shade of blue, a blue he had only seen before on the back of his father's dragon. Her lips were full and colored almost red. The swell of her breasts pushed out against the white, transparent fabric used to restrain them. Her flat stomach, her perfect belly button, and the splendor of the curves on her stomach were magnificent for the few short instants Brom examined them. Brom did not allow his eyes to drift further down, for out of the bottom of his eye he saw that all she wore around her legs was a pair of leggings so small and thin that they nearly did not cover what lay between her legs.

The woman smiled as she saw him, a warm smile he that seemed to come from a little girl rather than such a woman. She reached out and touched LunarMist, which was floating, suspended five inches off the tips of Brom's fingers. Through his connection with LunarMist, he felt the woman, and her thoughts and feelings. A knowing feeling, a trusting and confident one, came from her.

"You are brave," he said, "to have nerve enough to touch LunarMist."

"I do not fear the unknown as some do. Such a thing of beauty could not possibly be formed of something evil, can it?"

"True enough. Though I caution you against tempting this spirit, for it is wild even when it is in my grip. I cannot control its true nature."

"A true nature that, regrettably, I am unworthy of witnessing," she said and withdrew her hand. LunarMist, despite his best attempt to stop it, inched out a bit more to follow her hand.

Brom summoned it back, but instead of returning to his head in the form of a crown, LunarMist twined around his finger and took the shape of a ring. "I believe you know who I am; there are few who don't, and since you stand in my throne room that believe is near certain. However, I do not have the pleasure of knowing your name."

"My name is Rylar," the woman said, dipping into a bow at the waist; granting him a divine view of her breasts. When she straightened, his eyes lingered on her an instant too long, and she saw his gaze upon her. "My Lord," she said with a sly smile. "Whatever do you look at?"

"I find you…attractive," Brom said slowly. It was his believe that by admitting to desire, he was freed of its adverse effects in judgment.

"My Lord," she said, faking a blush. "You are so open. I find that alluring in a man." She stepped forward and pressed herself up against him. He felt her breasts press up against his chest, felt her hardened nipples. Hot blood flashed through him as she placed a hand on his growing manhood. Her warm breath tickled his ear as she said, "I would be…honored to satisfy any desires of the flesh you may have." Brom felt a pull in his mind, a twitching need to touch her soft flesh, rub her breasts, or taste the pleasure of what was in between her legs.

_LunarMist, _he thought. _Do away with this with your power. _With the fortitude of gods, Brom said, "Kindly rejected. If you would be so kind, step away. I cause unease to seep into my mind." With shocked surprise, Rylar stepped away. She blinked twice, then bowed.

"I apologize if I offended you, My Lord. I only wished to make my various talents known and welcome to you."

"They are known. Now, you snuck into my throne room; an act that could be looked upon in a harsh light, considering the movements of the Black Chamber. I am a busy man, with the world on the brink of civil war, so do not tarry in your speech."

A fiery determination entered Rylar's eyes. "My Lord, I would give you everything I have to offer, my mind, my body, my soul, the moment you requested it. Your wish is my delight to serve. M Lord, I know the dilemma you face, and I bring a solution."

"I doubt very seriously that you know any dilemmas that I may have, nor anything that could solve them."

Rylar smiled. "I have come to you today, to offer you my services as your Second Hand."


	12. An Old Friend

Rathon took in a deep breath as the cool water ran down his muscled back. He sat in a small forested area, which was situated near the shore of the Ramr River at the base of a waterfall, letting the endless water droplets drum against his flesh. It was rare, this chance to simply sit still and listen to the sounds of nature. The water beating against his body felt soothing after a long day on his throne. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes to observe the world around him.

The flooding light of the new autumn sun shone down on the red and yellow leaves of the forest, brightening their colors to glorious patches of light and color. The soft bed of fallen leaves proved a cushion for the many squirrels and mice that ran about the forest, preparing for the winter soon to come with unwavering dedication. With his mind, he felt the presences of the deer in the far corner of the glade, much more reluctant to be exposed than the rodents of the earth. With calm patience, he coaxed them out with his mind, assuring them that he meant them no harm and that all was safe around them. With guarded reluctance, they gradually emerged, pushing the leaves out of the way so that they might graze.

A sense of peace Rathon had longed for since the morning before last came into him as the sounds of the birds, the chirps and squeaks of the animals, the rush of the wind and the endless drumming of the waterfall engrossed him. Silently, he spoke to himself.

"And so yet another year passes on and yet here do I sit. A statue that age and time cannot touch. A monolith of acceptance for the role that fate has for me. On this day, three years ago, my father placed this crown on my head and with it, the heaviest responsibility I have ever known. I carry that burden willingly, if it will better the lives of others. Willingly will I sacrifice my life in order to bring their lives to peace." Then a thought that had always been in his mind came to him once more. "I wonder how Katelyn and Brom are." He had not expected how difficult refraining from speaking to them would be. Especially Katelyn. A twinge of unwarranted affection stirred within him, but he quickly stomped it out. "I will not be the one to unhinge my father's ruling. He has entrusted the rule of a third of the land to me, with but two conditions. That which was given to me is far greater than that which was taken." However, a slight hint of the feeling remained. He wrestled with it for well over five minutes, until he realized that peace no longer enveloped him. He tried to return to his previous state, but could not. Groaning with soreness, he stood, and stepped out from under the water. Focusing his mind he said, "Fall," and every droplet of water fell from his body, hair and clothing as if he had stood there for an hour.

He donned his cloak of black and white and clicked his tongue to his horse. The white stallion trotted out from the underbrush and nickered. He patted its snout, reassuring the deer in the corner of the glade not to run. He mounted his stead and set it walking away. Only once he was a quarter of a mile away did he speed his horse up. The wind ran through his hair, which had grown to a hand and a half in length, as he galloped through the countryside back to Ilirea. Many times, he saw farmers and field workers off to the side, and he would slow to speak to them. Most only wanted to great him and to express their delight in meeting him, but some few he knew and entrusted to watch the lower-in-rank people of his kingdom for signs of the Black Chamber. After an hour of riding, he arrived in the city.

He stopped on a hill overlooking the city. Since he took control of it three years ago, Ilirea had grown and expanded, both in size and in population. It seemed like every other day he was looking at a request form for the construction of new houses. The sprawling masses of people in the many marketplaces milled together in a confused jumble. The massive three story building of the Coin Keepers for Ilirea was packed to a degree that bordered with the extreme, which was ordinary for such a large city. How many people filled the innumerable houses no one could even fathom a guess.

The building that commanded the eye with its majesty was near the center of Ilirea. His home, Leonis Palace. The monumental structure stretched for almost a half mile in length, and reached for the sky with the tallest spire being almost a thousand feet in the air. The palace had been undergoing reconstruction ever since Galbatorix fell, thirteen years ago, and only been completed the year before. White marble had replaced the black granite that preceded it, giving it the appearance of palace of the heavens with the light that shone from it. Around the palace, gurgling fountains shot water twenty feet in the air. Hundreds of thousands of trees and shrubs made homes for uncountable songbirds and small animals. Many people walked among its winding paths of stone in the courtyard. Only a few of them were solitary. He took great pride in his home. He had decorated the insides of the palace to display the human's knowledge of artisanship, given that the dwarfs and elves so out beat them. At full capacity, the palace could house five thousand people in comfort.

Tapping his heels into his mount's sides, he trotted into the city and through the streets, raising his arm in greeting as people shouting greetings to him. It took him ten minutes to reach the palace, given the city's size and population. Two guards took up post beside him the moment he entered the city and watched the people gathered around with open suspicion. He hated the precaution but given the fact that the Black Chamber almost certainly had a presence there, it was necessary. In the three years he had ruled them, he had come to love humankind, and so he hated having to guard against them. When he had lived on Vroengard, he had looked onto man with open disgust, because their primitive nature in comparison to the other races. However, over time, he came to realize that their nature was not a fault of their own. Therefore, he had made it is goal to grow them from barbarians and brutes into scholars and artisans and for the most part, he had met with success.

Pulling on reins to his stead, he jumped off and landed in front of the steps that led to the front gate of his palace. Gigantic pillars lined the walls of the entrance, each pillar having four guards standing before it. Leading up to the door were forty-five steps of hardened marble, polished so it shone even more brightly then the rest of the palace. Handing the reins of his horse to a caretaker, he ascended the steps to the entrance, and then stopped as he hit the thirty-ninth step. His personal assistance looked him over.

"Sire, what troubles you?"

Rathon extended his awareness out as far as it would go, encompassing the entire city, and searched for the one pinprick of light that had caught his attention. A thin smile spread on his lips when he confirmed its existence. "Gather the High Nobles, Malizar. I sense an old mind that seeks me."

Malizar lifted a highbrow. "And what should I tell them should I disturb them at your behest? Not all of them support you, Highness."

"Tell them that the King of Man has made a choice for his Second Hand."

* * *

><p>Naydel jumped out of the carriage and looked up at the walls of the city. At its widest point, it was nearly two miles wide. <em>How am I to find him here?<em> She looked to her driver and said, "Set the carriage in a place with shade and water. I do not want the horses getting tired. Stay there with it; I will be fine on my own." Her driver dipped his head and clicked his tongue to the horses.

She went to the main entrance and a man behind a guard post said cheerfully, "Can I help you?" She stepped to him and showed him the symbol on her scroll.

"I was told you could take me to this man's home by this symbol."

The guard inspected the symbol and his face brightened. "Ah, yes! Rathon. Blasted tiny symbols are so small I can hardly tell the difference between one and the other. I'll have to alert him of your arrival before we can actually go there." Naydel nodded and sat down outside, but no sooner had she sat then he said, "Come along, then." He stepped out of the tower and guided her through the city. Tens of hundreds teamed the city streets so much that it was uncomfortably cramped.

When they stopped and the guard made his departure, he left Naydel confused. She stood on the marble pavement of an entryway to some grand estate. She slowly walked along the gardened path. The scents of the forest and ocean washed over her as the floors released their pleasant aroma. Then she stopped, dumbstruck. She had just turned a corner on the path that opened into a clearing that was almost a mile in diameter, though trees lined the inner portions. Sprawled in front of her was a palace. Fifteen fountains ten feet across gurgled along the pathway of a maze of bushes and flowers. The palace itself seemed to be made of solid silver and marble, for is shone like bright white snow. To look at it dazzled Naydel. The entrance to the palace was large enough to accommodate a dragon. About fifty steps led to this door. Fourteen people stood clustered on them in brilliantly colored robes of green and gold. As she stopped at the base of the stairs, mouth held open in awe of the sight, one of the figures, a man, detached himself from the group and descended the stairs towards her. Suddenly she became aware that she, a commoner, was highly out of place in that grand garden, so she dipped into a curtsy and when the man stopped on the tenth stair down she said, "Forgive me, my Lord. I know I have no place being here. I have been badly misdirected."

"Nay," the man said. "You are in the correct place. Raise your head."

She lifted her chin and looked up at the man. The bright rays of the sun flashing off the white of the stairs combined to make a halo around his face and make his details inscrutable. Only a vague outline of his mouth, nose, and eyes were visible. A line of black and white, an inch in length, ran the circumference of his head. At that moment, his voice clicked in Naydel's mind from two years prior and her mouth widened with shock. A smile spread on the man's lips. He lifted his arms out to either side in gesture of welcome and descended the final ten steps to stand in front of her.

"Welcome to Leonis Palace, Naydel daughter of Cecil."

Naydel fell to the ground and bowed as lowly as a slave. "Please forgive, my Lord, I-I did not know whom I spoke to when you…" Her mind racing she fell into silence, silently praying to the Gods above that Rathon would spare her life. However her lamentations to the skies she expected a harsh strike or worse. Instead, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder. The contact was so feared that she drew away from it initially. She looked up to see a warm look of affection lining Rathon's face.

"Rise. A woman of your stature belongs anywhere but the dirt." He held out a hand to her and she took it and stood, dazed.

"You…are a Prince?"

A short laugh of amusement burst from Rathon. "I am far more than that. I am King."

"But, King Eragon…"

"Is King over my brother, I, and another ruler. I rule Man. He rules Elves. She rules Dwarfs. Eragon rules us all. That is the way the system works."

The other men and women that had been standing with Rathon eventually came down to stand with them, looking disapprovingly at Naydel.

"My Liege," a large man with a long beard and gold robes said. "You cannot intend to allow this…commoner passage to Leonis."

"That and more," he said, looking back at them. "More than I have ever bestowed on anyone, including every one of you. You were gathered here because I said I had decided on my Second Hand. I did not say that it would be one of you." He composed himself and said, "Since I lack children of my own, and until such a time as I gain any thereof, I crown Naydel, daughter of Cecil, as my successor to the throne. I grant her holder of my riches until I have an heir old enough to claim them. I grant her access to Leonis and its treasures in unrestricted fullness. To her I grant the title of ShadowLight's Second Hand."

The nobles around them reacted with shock, and in many cases, outright rage. A thin man with a rapier at his side stepped forward and said, "Sir, a prior act of trust kept is required in order to make such a decision to allow her access to Leonis' riches. You cannot give her access to so many vast sums without prior knowledge that she will not abuse it. And in this case there is none."

"To the contrary, Sir Gardwin. Naydel, may I barrow the scroll I gave you for a moment?" She hastened to take the scroll out of the sleeve of her dress and hand it to him. He unraveled the parchment and held it up so that the twisting symbol was evident on its face. "Behold, my symbol. What act of trust kept can their greater be in this instance, Gardwin?"

The man bit his lower lip and said, "You have not the authority to grant her the throne prior to your descending it. I refuse to let you do this!"

Rathon's eyes darkened with anger. As they did, the crown on his head began to suck all light from the clearing into it until it seemed as though it were dusk, not high afternoon. The darkness did more than suck the light from the place. All emotions, whether they be sad or joyous, were drained from Naydel, leaving her like a hollow cast. Naydel shuddered. The crown on Rathon's head seemed now to embody malevolency, a darkness that could not be described entering Naydel as she looked at it. How Rathon allowed such an item to rest on his body, let alone his head, was beyond Naydel's comprehension. The darkness centered on Rathon and he said, "Then let he who has this authority step forth and show himself. I am Lord over the race of man, King of the Great Plains, and wielder of the awesome power that is ShadowLight. If you hold such authority to challenge me, then step forward and prove to ShadowLight that you are a more worthy bearer." No one stepped up to challenge him and after a moment the crown on his head seeped out the light it had stolen. "Be gone," he said with disgust to the group. "Do not return here until I send someone to get you." Reluctantly the group bowed and left the clearing, casting glares at Naydel the whole time. Naydel flinched as Rathon touched her shoulder. She looked to see the pained smile adorning his face. "I am sorry you had to see ShadowLight's darker side the first day you are here. It is a depravity I would not have forced upon you unless necessary and I apologize again for it. But come. The day goes on and I would not have you standing on your feet more than is needed. I assume you have come to Leonis to live here with me?"

"I have, Your Highness." Her breath caught in her throat as he placed a finger on her lips.

"Not Your Highness. Nor Your Majesty, nor Your Excellence, nor any other title. Unless the occasion demands it, which will be nowhere other than before the High King himself, my name to you is Rathon."

"And what of before King Eragon?"

"Before him and all who live on Doru Arabea, refer to me as ShadowLight at all times. All these things I shall explain to you in the fullness of time. Come. I wish you to see your new home." She went with him into the massive palace and he showed her the many great and wonderful rooms. Many had been made by the Elves, and their strange magic's had weaved such tender beauty into the rooms that she would have wept at their grace. They went through twenty four kitchens and eating halls, fourteen studies, twenty libraries, twelve landing platforms for dragons, countless bedrooms and restrooms, common areas and entertainment rooms. The room they ended on was Rathon's personal chambers. When she entered it she noticed the room was quite colder than the rest of the palace, until she noticed that no windows lines the walls, but rather had been left open to the elements. A vast bed, ten feet across and eleven feet long, was set directly under a collage of the rising sun. Drapes of pure white lined the bed and all she could she inside it were the dark blankets. _Black and white_, she thought. _Shadow and Light_. A table festooned with papers, maps, letters, documents, ink quills, ink caps, and a large number of empty parchments lined a full wall. In the center of the room was a depression in the floor that lined with blankets and pillows where a dragon might sleep. A hot flush infused Naydel's face as she came to the realization of what Rathon might want in exchange for granting her sanctuary in Leonis Palace.

"Is…is this where I am to sleep, my…Rathon?"

The question seemed to confuse him. "Only if you wish. I had a separate room made for you, if you would like. If I do say, it is quite admirable. I guess if you wish to sleep in this room, I can make arrangements for it."

"You mean you do not expect…favors for allowing me to stay here?"

Rathon's laugh boomed through the room like a drum for well over a minute. When his chuckling finally subsided he said, "No, of course not. Whatever gave you that idea is horribly mistaken."

"Then why are you giving me all that you are?"

Rathon faced her and said, "Because I value you, Naydel. Because I believe that given time you would be an excellent Second Hand."

"What is that?"

"A Second Hand is like a general for a King, but on a more personal level. They see to it that the King's rulings are upheld. They are the second most powerful person in a Kingdom, second only the King himself."

"And you wish me to be this for you?"

"I do indeed."

"But…why?"

A smile of such tenderness and comprehension came across Rathon's face. "Because you are the one who showed my eyes the light when they dwelled in the dark." He took her hands and they stood together, linked like the souls of two lovers. At a soft command from Rathon, the crown on his head began to dim the room so that it was not so painfully lit. "If not for you, I would never have seen the truth. You showed me that, and for that, I will always be in your debt. Without you, I would not be a King today; I would not even be a Master Rider. I would still be in Bullridge, trying to make sense of stars that I could not even see. Metaphorically speaking," he said with a laugh. His face returned to its previous expression. "Without you, I would be lost, Naydel."

Naydel's heart began to beat faster. His skin against hers was igniting a fire in her flesh that she had never known before. _What is this feeling?_ she thought. She looked up at him for a moment and then licked her lips and closed her eyes. Before her doubt had time to talk her out of what she was about to attempt, she leaned up on her toes and placed her lips onto Rathon's. Fiery bolts of electricity leapt through her body as their lips met, like two wild wolves meeting for the first time. Hardly noticing it, Naydel allowed her tongue to slip into Rathon's mouth, exploring it freely. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers ran through his hair. One of Rathon's arms snaked around her frame to rest of the small of her back. Naydel lost all capability to assimilate dreams with reality. The power to distinguish right from wrong was completely lost to her in that one moment of heated passion. The moment passed just as suddenly as it had begun. Rathon withdrew and placed a finger on her lips as she tried to pursue him. She slowly opened her eyes to meet his.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly.

"Don't be. Do not take this as though you are being spurned. One of King Eragon's few rules over our Lordships was that the three of us were not allowed to become romantically involved for the first five years, that we might focus on the tasks before us and not become distracted."

Naydel had yet to detach herself from Rathon's embrace. "Then you do not find me dissatisfying to your eye?"

A small bubble of a laugh came from Rathon. "No, I do not," he whispered. They stayed there, locked in intimate embrace.

"Sir, I do hope I'm not interrupting anything" came the dry remark from behind them.

"Not at all, Lathrian." Rathon turned his head to look at the butler standing behind them, though kept his arm around Naydel, which pleased her. "What is it?"

"A few messages for you, is all. Several of the nobles you so shamefully dismissed demand an audience with you, insisting that they were unfairly treated and demanding compensation for it. In addition, dinner has been served. I believe the meal this time is a lovely deer your dragon came back with. There is always the probability that I'm incorrect, of course."

"Thank you, Lathrian." After a long moment Rathon added, "You're excused, with instructions not to speak of what you have seen here."

Lathrian bowed. "I haven't the slightest idea to what you refer to when you what I saw here. I spoke to you from outside the door. Does that sound adequate, Sir?"

"You know me too well, Lathrian," Rathon said with a humored sigh. With another bow, Lathrian departed. While the two men were talking, Naydel had been looking up at the crown on Rathon's head, ShadowLight. As she looked at it she thought she saw the white lines inlayed into the onyx shifting and moving, each movement only a fraction of an inch. She must have been looking at it for longer than she thought, for Rathon said, "Does it frighten you? Truly it would surprise me if it did not."

She looked down into Rathon's eyes, and then returned them to the crown. "Yes, it does."

"May I show you something?" She hesitated, reluctant to see what the crown could do. "Do not fear. I will protect you from all you call themselves your enemy." After a long pause, she took his hand and nodded. Rathon composed himself. For nearly a minute he stood, not twitching, not speaking, and hardly breathing. Then, in a low soft voice, he intoned, "I am the Darkness that exists in the Light. I am the Light that lives in the ever-consuming Darkness. Where Darkness exists, I shall be the Light that pierces it. Where Light lives, I shall be the Darkness that consumes it. As your Master, I command you, be lit!" His voice grew gradually louder as he drew towards the last line. Like a blast of the new day, sun light erupted from the crown and pierced through any shadow that existed in the room, jumping from shadow to shadow until the entire shimmered as made of gold. Naydel looked about her in the shadow-less room, feeling as though she had been transported to a room in the heavens. The light in the room filled her with an overpowering sensation of joy and love. It seeped into every aspect of her being until not only the room, but her very soul was freed from the bindings of the shadows. Tears slanted down her face as she thought, _How perfect this place is. I…could live here._

After Naydel had enjoyed it all she could and the light was beginning to make her dizzy, Rathon said, "Light, I bid you return." Like trained birds obeying their master, the light in the room leapt from wall to wall and up Rathon's body until it came back to his crown. Rathon stepped up in front of her and brushed away her tears. He wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. "And that," he said, "is the lighter side of ShadowLight."


	13. Calibor: Lord of Dragons

**First let me say, this chapter had to be redone, because FanFiction didn't feel like putting in all the edited parts from my beta, or the chapter reviews. Sorry for the no random facts at the bottom. The wi-fi at my house is taken up by school work and so I have to wait till I can go to the library to update chapters. Moving on. **

**BlakDawn: :) Thank you for your excellent comment, and sorry for the errors. FanFiction didn't want to put them in. **

**rEdRoSeSiNaUgUsT: :) That's the way I imagined him.**

**Owltalon: :) Sorry for all the errors. They've all been fixed. ;)**

Katelyn strode forward with stifled irritation through the crowd of massed dwarfs. Her Second Hand, Nayter, hastened to follow her. As she walked, Katelyn noted the innumerable locations that the Black Chamber might be hiding: a dark building, an abandoned corridor, or any one of the silent rooms in the unfathomable belly of Farthen Dur. _How many could have penetrated us by now? _she thought, irritated with herself. In her three years of reign, she had not encountered the Black Chamber to the degree that she had expected. The years of peace and calm had dulled her senses to what might have been occurring within her kingdom. The mistake had cost her dearly. A week ago, ten members of the Black Chamber, all but two of them dwarfs, had entered the center of Farthen Dur, less then two hundred yards from Isidar Mithrim, before they were identified for what they were. Their target had apparently been Isidar Mithrim. However, failing that, and to avoiding capture, the lot of them had set off magical explosives that had destroyed a wide area around, along with themselves.

Katelyn climbed up a ramp that led to the observation tower that had been erected and scowled as she saw what remained of the blast radius. Only sheer luck and the speed of the dwarfs had saved Isidar Mithrim from its second end. However, the combined detonations of the Black Chamber members had decimated the center of Farthen Dur around Isidar Mithrim. Even now, the dwarfs were in the process of building precautionary structures near the base of the mountain to avoid its possible collapse. A hundred and twelve dwarfs had died in the explosion, and nearly three hundred others were wounded beyond repair.

_I'm better than this, _she scolded herself. _My inaction has cost the lives of hundreds!_

Nayter climbed up and surveyed the damage. "I'm sorry this happened, Katelyn."

"It's not your fault, it's mine. I should have predicted that this would happen, with what King said about how the other two Kingdoms have been blighted by this black organization."

Nayter glanced over at her, concern heavy in her eyes. "The weight of this world does not need to fall on your shoulders alone. The way I see it is that there is nothing we can do about the past, but there is everything we can do about the future."

"Those who don't respect the past are doomed to repeat it," Katelyn said, quoting a famous line from the first Eragon.

"This will not happen again, unless we let it happen," Nayter insisted. "There many things that can be done to guard against the Black Chamber's coming again. There are an extra three hundred dwarfs standing idle," she said as she shifted through the parchment in her hands. "Set them to work on defenses."

"I will not guard against my own people," she said, feeling deeply sorrowed by the human's involvement in the Black Chamber. _How can they be so foolish?_

A shift in Nayter's hair told Katelyn she was listening with her wolf ears to Katelyn's emotions. "The time for sympathy for our own race that lives within the Black Chamber has come and gone, Katelyn. The Black Chamber has gone one step too far here. They killed over a hundred of your new people, and crippled many more to the point that they will be lucky to stand on their own two feet again. The time of rescuing has gone and the time for retribution has come. They have bitten the hand of friendship offered to them. Now is the time for recompense that your new people demand." A faint red gleam, common to wolves, had entered Nayter's eyes by the time she finished. Primal instincts imbued in her flesh by her mother's father told her to destroy those that had harmed those she loved. Then the gleam was gone as she blinked and narrowed her eyes down at herself. "I forget sometimes that I'm not entirely human, nor werecat, nor wolf. The wolf side of me says rip to shreds, but the other part of me…the human part, tells me to have pity on them. It gets very hard to distinguish which one to listen to."

Katelyn turned to her second in command and said with as much compassion as she could muster, "I think Rathon had a similar problem."

At the mention of his name, Nayter's wolf ears twitched and she brushed her hair under one human ear to hide the movement. "How?"

"He had two masters, your father and your father's brother. In the end, it was Zodion he listened to more. Your uncle hates your father more than I have ever seen any human hate another; but he hides it for Rathon's sake. He cares for Rathon on a far more personal level then Aesire, simply because Zodion can relate to Rathon's place in life. The lesser of two brothers. He sees himself when he looks at Rathon, and for that reason, he is willing to reveal secrets of power, which attracts Rathon. They're two of the same." She reached forward and placed a hand on Nayter's shoulder, wishing with all her might that BloodFire had the power to restore lost confidence. "You and Rathon share so many of the same qualities. So don't worry that he thinks of you as he does, an animal, because you are more wolf and werecat than human."

"I didn't say…"

"I can see your emotions just like you can hear mine," Katelyn interrupted. After a long pause Nayter lowered her gaze.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You are more than welcome." When Nayter had raised her eyes Katelyn said, "Set the extra men to guarding Isidar Mithrim, would you? I fear that if we lose that the morale of the dwarfs will plummet like a shot eagle."

Nayter bowed. "Of course." She quickly descended from the observation tower, down the ramp and off into the city. Katelyn looked one last time at the charred remains of the center of Farthen Dur. _I will avenge you, _she thought.

When she got to the bottom, she felt a pair of eyes boring into her back. She turned her eyes behind her and searched the street. No one was there. The feeling remained. Then a pair of silver eyes flashed up in the darkness. By their height from the ground, she knew it was a human. _Fire, _she thought. A flame of light leapt up beside the stranger, illuminating their features. A black cloaked man, with a hood over his head, stood in the alleyway. Tattooed on the back of his right hand was a twisting black dragon. Tales of Eragon's visions of a black clad man jumped to her mind and she thought, _Chamber member. _"You," she said. Just as the word left her throat, the man turned and ran away. _Oh no you don't, _she thought. She took off after him.

Through the alleyway was a stone wall. Like a spider, the man leapt onto the wall and climbed up onto the rooftop of the house next to them. She stopped and glared up at him and then rapidly around her. A pile of crates and boxes caught her attention. She jumped up and climbed over one after the other, then jumped and grabbed the edge of the house with the tips of her fingers. With the force of her will, she pulled herself up after the man, who was already jumping down to the next house top. She sighed and ran after him, barely making the jump to the next house. The man was like an acrobat with the strength of an elf, jumping from house to house with the ease and grace of a deer. In sharp contrast, Katelyn hardly made it across house tops, and more than once, she was convinced she would not make it.

Finally, the man jumped to the ground below and into a tunnel. When she made it down, she had to stop and breathe heavily before she could continue to pursue him. He ran without tiring, and after nearly ten minutes of jumping over barrels and nonstop sprinting, she could bare no more. She uttered a weak, "Stop!" and had to stop to rest. When she looked up, she was baffled to see the man stopped, and looking back at her, as if without her chasing him, he had lost all interest in running. She ran at a slow pace to close the distance between them.

"Is it to me you speak?" asked the man in a deep voice that reminded her of many of the elves she had met over her life. The thought that he was an elf occurred to her, until she caught a glimpse of his rounded ears as she stood up from panting.

"Of course it is," she said, frustrated. "To whom else might I be speaking to? We are alone!" And just as she said it, that fact settled in on her. She was alone, facing off against a man with elf strength and endurance, without any clue what tunnel she was in. If she was hurt or killed out here, who knew how long it would take for someone to find her?

"I would not dare fathom a guess," the man said. "I have never been to this tunnel."

"Yet you ran through it as though you live in them."

He shrugged. "Agility and the ability to adapt to changing environments are no great skills."

"Remove your hood," she said, guardedly.

"But, of course. Before I do, I would enjoy knowing who orders a free man so carelessly to obey their commands." He reached up to pull back the hood.

"I am Katelyn, daughter of Katrina, Queen of the ground you are standing on."

The man removed his hood and the light of the torches around them lit his face like the sun. His face was angular, like a cat's, but in no way was it an elf's. His brows were level, and his ears curved, but when his silver eyes met hers she tightened a hand on the dagger at her waist. They seemed…vast and unending, deep and knowing. When he looked at her, he looked through her body to the soul beneath. In that one instant of contact, she felt like he understood her. Then he raised a hand and said, "Be still, Daughter of the Earth."

Katelyn flinched as she became powerless to move. Her fingers twitched away from her dagger, her mind inched away from her contact with BloodFire. Before her contact with the spell was lost, she thought, _BloodFire, help me. _The crown on her head began to glow with red light.

The man before her murmured softly, "I acknowledge you, O Tremendous BloodFire, and I bid thee be at peace. Oh, mightiest of spells, I mean this child no harm. Stay your mighty hand of power for but this once, and let me speak with this daughter in the peace of your presence." BloodFire dulled in color until it returned to normal, and then began to almost push at her mind towards the man.

"Who are you?" she asked, for she still had the power to speak. Her body would not move, her eyes locked with those of the man.

"I am who I am. My names are not few in number; they are as vast as the Plains, as uncountable as the sand on the shore, as obscure as the creatures that dwell in the deep. I am known as Kayalder, Lord of Dragons. In this time, and in this place, my name is Calibor."

_What a powerful name that is. Kayalder, _Katelyn thought. "Calibor. Why are you here?"

"To give answer to the calls of my children. The dreams of your King Eragon have beset them with worry, so I traveled to the Pillars of Time and drank from the Pool of Truth." _This is sounding more and more like I'm dreaming, _Katelyn thought.

"What are those?"

"By the laws of the gods, I am not permitted to describe their full nature to a mortal. Suffice to say, the Pillars of Time know all that every was and all that every will be and the Pool of Truth allows you to harness that knowledge. They have a different name to you, but those I will not speak of it here. Now listen, Child. I went there, and I saw what will be. It is important you know, none of what will come is any fault of yours. I went and drank of the water, and a vision beset me. I saw a man cloaked in black, who calls himself your friend and confesses his love to you, will be seduced by a great evil that stalks this land and that calls the city of Eoam it's home. He will be seduced by it, fall in with it, and betray you to it. The man that you once knew will burn away in the fires of that evil, and that which seduced him will hold his heart. Then, a flash of light erupted in the black clouds and a great shriek of pain came from the blackness, and I awoke." Calibor refocused on Katelyn, who was narrowing her eyes in disbelief. "You doubt the Pool of Truth?"

"Very much so," Katelyn said adamantly. However, a dark feeling of trepidation lurked in her heart.

"Never have you been good at hiding your thoughts," Calibor said, closing his eyes. "I leave you then with these words, spoken to me years ago by a man whose wisdom I have yet to see the equal of." Calibor's feet popped and began to evaporate; white smoke crawling up his leg as his body slowly disappeared from the feet up. "Even in the darkest of times, even when those we love have turned their backs against us, hope can endure. When we forsake hope, abandon what may yet be, we leave behind the chance of what was taken being returned. What once was, may yet be again. What we once had, we may hold once more. So stand strong beside the Pillars of Truth and do not let your confidence in the lost diminish, for in them, you shall find what has been taken and also what has yet to be gained. Believe; for without belief, you have nothing." And with those final words, Calibor vanished in a wisp of smoke.

Katelyn, regaining her ability to move, reached up and placed a hand on her heart, which was now beating very rapidly. "Would Brom do that?" she asked softly. For once, when she had returned from her final Rider's training he had hugged her so fiercely she would have felt safe even if they stood before a demon, and had said so softly she barely heard, "I love you."


	14. No Cool Name Part II

The bright colors and smells of the autumn leaves filled Rathon senses as he and three others rode horses through the woods at the base of the mountains. Naydel rode beside Rathon as his Second Hand, a crown of bronze and silver resting on her head and her body draped with white robes. Two guards rode behind them, talking to each other about some extraordinary battle they had supposedly witnessed.

Rathon lifted a finger and pointed to a large grove off to their right. A red fox stood in one side of it, staring at them with small eyes that followed their every movement. "Do you see that, Naydel?"

Vapor emanated from Naydel's mouth as she said cheerfully, "Obviously. However, I would far more prefer seeing the inside of a warm bedroom. It is too cold out here, Rathon. Let us go back to the palace. You can read me one of those elvish epics you so love reading."

Rathon smiled. "You promised you'd go out riding with me today. Do not worry; the sun will soon be up and then you will be complaining that it is too hot. It is not every day this rebellion allows me some free time." However, he did relented enough to whisper, "Light, warm her soul." Naydel shifted as the warmth of Light infused her.

"It shouldn't be too long before you are summoned back to Vroengard, is it?"

Rathon smiled. "No, it will not. A fortnight is all that is left of my testing period." His thoughts turned unbidden to Brom and Katelyn. _I don't think they'll recognize me from five years ago. I've grown so much. What a heartless person I was back then. No longer. I wonder…if Katelyn has found someone. Doubtless the both of them have chosen Second's, but how far will it led when Eragon lifts his ruling over us, when we will be permitted to love._

"What are you thinking about?" Naydel asked.

"My brother and my childhood friend."

"You'll see Brom and Katelyn at Vroengard. Why not keep your mind on the present? I just saw a bear that you didn't seem to notice. That's very uncommon for you," she said teasingly.

He looked over at her, a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, this coming from a girl that wanted nothing more than to return to bed not five minutes ago?"

She pulled the reins of her horse over to his and the two mounts tapped noses. She was smiling now as he increased the power he was transferring through Light. "It is no decent temperature out here for morning rides. No sane individual would dream of going out this early."

Rathon pulled on his reins and the two horses bumped up against each other. "I happen to be a king at the crossroads between peace and a civil war and I therefore happen to enjoy every free moment that situation allows me."

A laugh came from Naydel as he reached over with a leg and pushed her. Drunken on the stupor light often left one with, she stood up in the saddle and flung herself over at him. She caught him broadside and they fell, tumbling over each other, laughing the entire way. They fell into the gorge and rolled over one another until they hit the bottom, laughing so hard tears fell from their eyes. When she recovered, she looked down at Rathon, for she had landed on him, and smiled. The yellow and red leaves behind her combined with her brown locks of hair made her look exceptionally beautiful.

"I wish that we could be together, Rathon. I have never felt like this for someone else."

"If and only, my dear Naydel, are words to be used only when something is entirely impossible."

She tilted her head sideways. "Is it not as such?"

"Perhaps for another fortnight."

Naydel's eyes seemed distant for a moment and then smiled again. "And here I am thinking of that time when not two minutes ago I was admonishing you to focus on the present."

At that moment, their two guards came riding down the side of the gorge. They slowed their steeds and the elder said, "My king, are you well?"

Naydel rolled off Rathon and he sat up. "Quite well. Go on back to the palace. We're going to stay here for a while."

The two guards exchanged a glance. "I cry your pardon," said the younger of the two. "But these woods are known for bandits and the Black Chamber. We cannot leave with those credible rumors."

ShadowLight stirred on Rathon's head, he held out his hand, and the spirit inside his crown moved onto it, where shifted and waved with black and white, seeming to twist the very light and shadows around them as it gyrated. "We will be quite safe, with the spirit of ShadowLight watching over us. Go. We will return before noon." Muttering words of concern the two one went back up the gorge and out of sight. Behind them, the darkness of ShadowLight lifted up and around Rathon and Naydel in a dome of blackness that no light penetrated.

* * *

><p>When Rathon lowered the dome of blackness an hour later, he felt something through ShadowLight; something strange and off. He examined the area around them, but saw nothing amiss. Naydel stood and said, "What do you think that is?"<p>

"You can feel it too?"

Naydel nodded. "After two years of living in close proximity to it, I guess ShadowLight is beginning to rub off on me."

Rathon extended his mind outward, searching for the source of what felt so strange to his consciousness. He found it without effort, for it sat out in the open, without a guard or shield. He focused his mind, attempting to identify it. Naydel nudged his arm.

"Rathon," she said quietly.

"Hold on," he said, focusing. He had to know what that strange presence was.

"Rathon," Naydel said again, more urgently.

"Wait," Rathon said, impatiently. "It's a mind like ours," he said. "But of a type I have never felt before."

"Rathon," Naydel said harshly. Rathon opened his eyes.

"What?" he asked exasperatedly. And just as he asked that, he saw what it was she saw. Forty black garbed men stood in the rough circle around them. On each of their chests and foreheads was the diagram of a black dragon, an even deeper black then their clocks. A good number of them had bows drawn to shoot, and all the rest carried wicked curved swords.

"Do you think..." Naydel began.

"Yes," Rathon said shortly, taking a step forward in front of her. "I would ask who you are, if I did not already know. The Black Chamber, I presume."

One of the men, who was the only one among them without a mask, stepped forward, a sneer on his face. A nasty scar ran down the side of his face, a long and deep jagged cut that looked fresh. The worst part of the wound was that it looked self inflicted. "Look what we have here, my fellows. A lost king out on a stroll with his lady? And did you see how easy it was to sneak up on them? He just closed his eyes and let us surround them. I must thank you for that, your Majesty," he said with a deriving tone. "It made our job all the easier."

"Do you honestly believe that forty some men can take me down?"

"With enchanted arrows that pierce any ward? With swords that break any shield? With magic that destroys any protection? Outnumbering you twenty to one? Yes, I do believe so."

"Yet, something about your plan is overlooked. That which I hold goes far beyond any normal magic. One of the three most powerful spells in the world rests upon my head."

The whole lot of the men burst out into hysterical laughter. The leader said, "We know about ShadowLight, Rathon son of Eragon."

"Rathon," Naydel said. "Who many can you take out with ShadowLight?"

"Before their arrows destroy us or their swords kill us? Optimistically, thirty of them."

"Even at my best I think I could only take five or six of them at once."

"Which leaves that last four. Let's try this," he said, and whispered, "Shadow." The crown on his head darkened and started to suck all light out of the place, as well as what confidence existed in the men. Yet despite that, the men stood their ground. Rathon bit his lip. "I was afraid of that."

"What's wrong?" Naydel asked.

"They said they knew about ShadowLight. They have protection from it, somehow."

"What are we going to do?"

Rathon looked left to right and said, "I'm going to clear out the men in front of that boulder," he said, nodding towards a large rock that was only guarded by two or three men. "And when I do I want you to run past the opening and get help."

"I'm not going to leave you," Naydel said adamantly.

"Naydel, we don't have time to sit here and…" before he could finish the leader raised his hand.

"Seize them! We take them prisoner." The swords men charged forward, brandishing wild war cries and lifting their swords to attack.

Rathon threw his arms out to either side and said, "Darkness, shield us." The darkness converged around them, shielding them from the arrows and swords that bounced off it. Rathon flinched at each impact. Because of how close he and ShadowLight were he felt what it felt. "When I lower the shield, run," he said to Naydel.

"No," she said. "I'm by your side, whether you like it or not."

"Why do you…" Rathon was cut off by a cracking sound. He looked up and saw a thin crack in the dome that ShadowLight created. _How is that possible? _Was his last thought, before ShadowLight's dome cracked and shattered and some invisible club clouted him over the head.

* * *

><p>Light slowly returned to Rathon's mind. The sound of fire crackling filled his ears. The memories of what had happened came back to him bit by bit. <em>I guess they took me prisoner, <em>he thought. He pushed himself up with one arm and looked around at his surroundings. He was confused to see ShadowLight, in the form of a ring, on his right hand._ Why didn't they take it? _He was lying on a rough bed that was shaded from the lowering sun by a wooden canopy of twisting branches. Over the sound of the fire he could hear water trickling and swishing endless, though could not see where it came from. He stood and staggered with dizziness. He closed his eyes and waited for the blood in his head settled. When he opened his eyes he recoiled to see a man sitting in the twisting vine chair opposite him. Only a second ago the chair had been empty, except for the eleven large tomes that filled it. The books now rested on the end of the bed. The man clasped his hands together, fingers splayed around each other. His left leg crossed over his right, his elbows resting on the arm chairs. On the back of his right veined hand was a black dragon, wreathed in flame. His face resembled that of an elf's, with angular grace of a cat, but his eyebrows, eyes and ears were human.

"I'm glad to see you're awake. Honestly, I did not expect to have such a hard time getting ShadowLight off your finger. The two of you have truly become one. It will be interesting to see what it will do when it is time for you to surrender it to another."

"How do you know about what ShadowLight is? Are you apart of the Black Chamber?"

A soft chuckle came from him. "No, Rathon. I will never aid those who seek to bring back the man that enslaved my children."

"Undoubtedly," Rathon said. "Where is the woman who was with me?"

"Naydel," he said, and shrugged when Rathon looked him over. "May as well refer to her by name. You know her as I do. She is well. The Black Chamber…failed in capturing the two of you."

"Who stopped them?"

"Me."

"Why?"

"I saw someone in need and I chose to help them. What more explanation is needed?"

Rathon thought for a moment. "How did you prevail over them?"

A dark gleam came to his eye. "Let's just say that I…bested them at their own game."

"May I have your name? It's customary in royal families to reward people of significant aid."

The man looked off in the distance and said, "So I told it to her I shall tell it to you. I have many names, perhaps too many. So here and now, my name is Calibor, Lord of Dragons."

"You," Rathon said, as a thought occurred to him. "You are the source of that mind from before, aren't you?"

A thin smile crossed Calibor's lips. "We all have a mind, Rathon. Who's to say which one is which? You look troubled," Calibor noted.

"A few things confuse me. You knew my and Naydel's names without being told them. Granted, I understand how you would know my name, being I am the King, but I pay to keep Naydel's name hidden to protect her from the Black Chamber. How, then, did you know them?"

A gleam entered Calibor's eye. "Care for her, do you?"

Rathon did not allow himself to fluster. "Of course. She's my Second Hand. Why would I not? Answer the question."

Kindness crept into Calibor's voice and the warmth of that emotion was powerful it carried over to Rathon, so that he could feel it as easily as he did the bed beside him. "I know you, not because you are a king. Such titles are useless to me. I know you, because one of my children saw fit to bind his soul to you, the moment he drew his first. I know Naydel, for she has known suffering of a profound nature. I am in the heart of everyone who knows such pain. I am by the side of every lonely beggar in the land. I know her, and I know you because of it; for once, she needed someone to be beside her. And you were that someone." He stood, so that his piercing silver eyes bore into his. "I am on your side, Rathon, because of that. I will fight by your side because you chose, freely, to protect her from Kaialdin, the man who you stopped from harming her. I will always be on your side, Rathon, for better or for worse. I offer you this unbreakable alliance in thanks for your actions towards Naydel. My question is," Calibor said, extending his arm out to Rathon, "will you accept it?"

Rathon stepped forward and embraced Calibor's hand. He did not know the man, or the history that sat behind those deep silver eyes, but something about him seemed so calm and assured that Rathon wanted to be in his presence. _I want to be like that, _he thought.

A burst of humors laughter escaped Calibor. "Relinquish that hope, Rathon. I fear you will not live it out, unless you plan on living for a _very long time." _Before Rathon had a chance to respond Naydel turned the corner and saw Rathon. A cry mixed with joy and relief escaped her and she jumped into his waiting arms.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she said.

"Likewise," he responded. She looked up at him and saw the bruise on his forehead, left when one of the Black Chamber hit him over the head with the hilt of his sword after ShadowLight collapsed.

"You're hurt," she said, concern in her voice.

"Hardly," he responded with a weary smile. He raised his hand over the bruise and sent a burst of energy through his palm and out the tips of his fingers. The energy expelled the blood from the surrounding tissue and the bruise vanished. He lowered his hand and showed her the spot on his head he had been struck. "See? I'm perfectly fine."

She looked at him seriously. "You know that I don't like you using that technique when you're already tired. The transfer of pure energy is difficult in perfect circumstances, let alone the current ones. You must be more careful with how you use ShadowLight in battle. What were you planning on doing after you placed that shield over us? Wait until they got bored and left?"

"I was planning on telling you what to do," Rathon said with a quirked smile. "Maybe not the best plan ever devised, but what was the alternative? I haven't used ShadowLight much in combat to start with."

Naydel uttered a sigh and smiled up at him. "Are you always so reckless?"

Rathon tapped the center of her forehead with his. "Always have been, always will be." He and Naydel detached and Rathon spoke to Calibor. "Thank you once again, Calibor, Lord of Dragons. If ever you need sanctuary, you have but to seek me out in the palace in Ilirea."

"Thank you for your offer. But I must go now."

"Where?"

"To a place where I cannot afford the comfort of your human home. A place outside the bounds of time and space. I go to prepare the future for you, and it is a tireless task. We may not meet again for some time, so I bid the both of you farewell." Rathon opened his mouth to speak, but blinked once and when his eyes reopened Calibor, and all signs he had ever stood there, had vanished like vapor.

That night, Rathon and Naydel lay in their bedroom in front of the roaring fire, and Rathon told Naydel the story of how Eragon, his father, had transcended his life as a farmer to become a Rider and destroy the Evil One, Galbatorix.

"And so," he concluded. "Eragon ascended the throne in Doru Arabea and became King of Alageasia and we entered into what is now referred to as 'The Era of Peace.'"

Naydel, who was resting her head on Rathon's shoulder, looked up at him and he down at her. The light from the fire eliminated her features and seemed to cast them in gold. In her eyes were compassion, warmth and….love. The emotion was distant, but unmistakable, like a ship seen from afar on the ocean. "Rathon. When you are freed of the High King's ruling, will we be together?"

Rathon thought over was he was about to say. "Do you know what happened hours before I met you?" he asked. She shook her head. "I met a girl. Her name was Rylar. To this day I do not understand my reasoning, but for the maybe hour I was around her, I was completely convinced I was in love with her. It wasn't true, of course. I didn't love her, I wanted her. Like a chicken would want feed. I thought I understood what love was. But, I didn't. Here with you now, though, I think I do."

"Do not feel pressured to answer yes," she said. "I want you to answer with your heart, not your mind."

He placed a finger on her lips. She allowed the contact. He knew that, if he asked it of her, she would allow him to touch her anywhere, to do anything to her. He would never ask her to do that, however. "Come, dear Naydel. Let us sleep and rest. Today was a trying day. Know this, to answer your question. I do not know if we will physically be together, hidden in the dark of this room together in ten days time, but I do know that I love you so closely I would cast myself before anything that would harm you. Does that satisfy you?"

She curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest, and said softly, "More then you shall ever know."


	15. Decisions

**rEdRoSeSiNaUgUsT: Not much to respond to, but thank you. :)**

**Eradon son of awesomeness: :0 If that's even possible! :)**

**Lone-grey-koas-wolf: Then I give you…drum roll please…..dun dun dun dun dun dun dunuuunnnnn….the next chapter!**

**Owltalon: Kind of everybody's. It sort starts out as Brom's, but half way through it skips over to Rathon, so to a certain degree it's all over the place. I usually don't like adding multi pov's per chapter, but they are useful for condensing chapters.**

* * *

><p>Brom stood, two hundred feet, above the crashing waves of the ocean's abyss. The sound of repetitive water beating against the stones of the palace on Doru Arabea was comforting to him, reminding of him of his childhood. Of all the aspects of his life on Doru Arabea, he had found the ocean to be the most stable, the thing that seemed the least fragile. He scoffed to himself. "How ironic that is; that which will never stop moving seems the most stable to me."<p>

"My master," Rylar said, dipping into a bow as she approached.

"What is it?"

"Well according to the sentinels in the watch tower the dragon who bears your friend Katelyn fast approaches."

Excitement surged through Brom, but he tightened his grip in his arm to hold it back. He had been waiting for this day ever since Katelyn first left his sight five years ago. Regardless his eagerness to see Katelyn again, he would not lower himself to Rylar's manipulative capability. "How reliable is their report?"

"Given that the hour of your kings and queens return to this city is nigh, I would say very accurate indeed."

"Thank you, then. You may leave me."

Instead of obeying his veiled order, she stepped beside him and said, "Whatever existed between the two of you, if I may be so bold to pose such a question?"

"A friendship that ran as deep as the sea and as far as the shore," Brom said in a distant voice.

Rylar traced her fingernails down his rib cage. "And what of now?" She asked in a husky voice.

Brom remained quiet until he grew sick of her toying. "Rylar, I distinctly recall granting you permission to depart. You have two options at the present. Option one: cease your baying and leave me to my thoughts, or option two: continue prodding me until the spirit on my head decides to rip your presence from this island." He looked over at her and she removed her hand from his side. "I would not have crowned you my Second Hand had I not believe you possessed more than one iota of intelligence, and indeed you have proven quite useful in past days and I therefore have no desire to rid myself of you. So, please, for the sake of your physical well-being and my mental stability, please decipher the inner machinations of the permission that so cryptically I granted you."

Rylar, despite his warning, backed away and said seductively, "I live to serve you, my leige."

When she had gone Brom thought, _Will she ever give up?_

_It's highly doubtful, _Zacaid said. _But look on the bright side. If you constantly have a pigeon flying around your head annoying you to no end, at least your next dinner will always be within arm's reach._

_How amusing, _Brom replied dryly. _Where are you right now? I would try to reach out to touch your mind but I fear Rylar would leap for the opportunity._

_I was off at my old sun bathing rock; the one the juts out of the ocean and levels off at the perfect angle. Now I am heading back; seeing as our friends will soon arrive. I unfortunately won't be able to make it before they get there._

_I'll be sure to keep them occupied until you grace us with your presence, _Brom said teasingly.

Brom turned and with Rylar sticking to his back like a bee to honey, he made his way through the castle out onto the front gates.

He saw her there; he could hardly have failed to, for Arani was hovering over the courtyard, slowly descending on wings twice his length as he remembered. _I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise, _he thought. _After all, Zacaid has grown as well. _Too many Riders to count clustered the courtyard, awaiting the return of their fellows. Raising his voice to make himself heard over the beating of Arani's wings, he cleared an area wide and long enough for the silver dragon to land. With a tremor that ran the courtyard, Arani touched down.

Brom hurried beside the dragon and laid a hand on her side fondly.

_Hello, Brom, _the silver dragon said.

_Greetings, Mighty One. _Katelyn unstrapped herself and made her way down the saddle. He caught her as she fell down the last strap. "Careful," he said, admonishingly.

A smile ran across Katelyn's beautiful face. "Do you know how long it takes to fly from Farthen Dur to here? My limbs refuse to obey me."

"Why didn't you sleep in the saddle?"

"Arani wanted me to stay up and keep her company, and as usual, I am powerless to resist." Arani hummed. "Help Nayter out of the saddle, would you? I fear she'll fall and hurt herself without aid." She looked up at him warmly. "Don't worry, I can hold myself up. I'm not alone, you know." She flicked her eyes up at the red and orange crown on her head. Brom nodded and returned to Arani's side, waiting for Nayter. Like a swallow flitting out from a tree, her head poked out from behind Arani's shoulders. She smiled down at him.

"Hello Brom. It's good to see you again."

A pang resonated inside Brom when his eyes met hers. He was unprepared for the sudden surge of joy he felt seeing her. He took a step back and touched his chest with two fingers, unable to comprehend why he could not look away from her. "Hello, Nayter," he said, forcing his speech to be solid and unwavering. "Katelyn wanted me to help you get down."

Bubbly laughter came from Nayter. "Typical of Katelyn to worry about me. I can get down by myself. I am partially a wolf." Even as she said it, wolf ears emerged from her hair. She jumped out of Arani's saddle. Just as her foot left Arani's shoulders, however, it caught in one of the straps that tied down your wrists. Brom's heart lurched as Nayter twisted in mid air and fell backwards towards the ground.

Without a moment to think Brom extended his right arm and said, "Stop!" Using only the sheer force of his energy, he stopped Nayter in mid air. He gripped his right arm with his left, sweat coating his brow as he slowly lowered Nayter to the ground. _Why is this so difficult for me? _he thought in frustration. _Rathon could do this without thinking or an ounce of exertion. _It required every part of his concentration not to lose the perfect combination of focus and strength needed to maintain the energy. With a grunt, Brom released Nayter when she was an inch over the ground. She stood and dusted herself off, then began to laugh like a child.

"I suppose I did need help," she said with a large smile. "Thank you. That fall would have been quite painful when it came to the sudden stop."

"You're welcome," he said as she strode past him to rejoin Katelyn. He watched her for a moment, aware of Rylar's eyes heavy upon him, when a great roar came from the skies above. Brom turned to look, expecting to see the azure scales of Zacaid, but instead, the dragon that barreled from the sky was painted in iridescent ruby. "Rathon," Brom said. The crowd of Riders stumbled over each other to get out of the way as Leonis landed. After a moment Rathon, dressed in black and white riding gear, stood and raised his hand to the assembled crowd. Cheers went up as he did. He unstrapped himself and jumped down to the ground, then helped a young woman down as well.

Then he faced Brom and their eyes met and Brom could tell just by that contact that Rathon had changed greatly. No longer was Rathon his little brother, sniveling because of his lack of power, but a king over his kingdom of Alageasia, With a stride, both long and graceful, Rathon approached Brom and bowed.

"Hail LunarMist, Lord and King of the Great Woods!"

"And you, ShadowLight, Lord of the Great Plains."

Then Rathon's eyes fell on Rylar. Nothing dampened in his expression as he said, "It appears you have taken a Second Hand, though I regret to say your judgment could have been better."

"And why do you say that?" Brom asked, looking back at Rylar. Honestly, the news did not surprise him, but for the sake of royal greetings, his response was fixed. He was bound by the oath he took when he was crowned to protect all who followed him, and Rylar did that, almost to a degree of creepiness.

Rathon smiled and shook his head. "I wouldn't dare bias your opinion of her by my past experiences, Brother. Besides, a half decade separates our last encounter and the present."

"I'll expect a full explanation of how you know my younger brother when we are in a more private setting," Brom whispered to Rylar.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"And who have you brought with you?" Brom asked Rathon, eyeing the woman who stood beside him.

Rathon tapped Naydel's shoulder, and whispered something in her ear. She curtsied and said, "I am Naydel, Lord LunarMist. I am ShadowLight's Second Hand. It is truly an honor to meet you."

"Naydel?" Katelyn said from a few yards away. She examined Naydel for a long moment then said, "That's where I recognize your name. You were the girl Rathon saved in Bullridge."

Naydel curtsied again. "Yes, that was I, Lady BloodFire." She stood and Nayter addressed her. Being that they were of equal status neither bowed nor curtsied, but rather spoke freely like friends would.

"Strange," Brom said, "that all the Second's Hands are female." He looked over his shoulder at Rylar. "Why don't you go join them?"

"I am fine where I am, Master," she said, distractedly looking at Rathon.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough. Leave us; we have things to discuss that are not for company's ears." Rylar dipped her head and departed to join the other two Second Hands, who did not welcome her arrival, though allowed it.

The three of them turned away from the crowd so that what they said could not be read from a distance. Rathon said, "It's wonderful to see the both of you."

"And you as well," Katelyn said happily.

"I heard what happened with the incident with the Black Chamber and Isidar Mithrim."

"Yes. It appears that those members in particular were apart of the elite core of the Black Chamber, evidently specializing in breaking into enemy territories. Have you had any trouble with them?"

"Sadly, yes. Given the majority of the Black Chamber is formed up of humans, I believe that it was in man the Black Chamber took root."

"A fault not to be placed on your shoulders," Brom said.

Rathon raised an eyebrow. "Why, Brother, I dare say that is the first time you have ever comforted me. As I was saying, little over a week ago, Naydel and I were out early in the morning and they surrounded us before I even knew what was happening. There must have been at least forty of them. Admittedly, it was not the wisest thing I've ever done, closing my eyes and searching for a distant mind out in the woods, but I cannot understand how the Black Chamber got so close. We were hardly more than two miles from the city. The city, by which, they must have a base in. It's the only possible explanation for how they can infiltrate us like that. The Gods only know what form of devilry they are working now while I'm gone."

"How did you manage to get away from the Black Chamber?" Katelyn asked. "You haven't fought much with ShadowLight, have you?"

"No. I formed a shield with ShadowLight to protect us from their swords and arrows, but they broke through it and knocked me out. Then I woke up in this strange man's house. He was the one to beat off those Chamber members, or so he said."

"Do you not believe him?"

"No, I believe him," Rathon said, thinking of how Calibor had been able to appear and disappear apparently at will. "He possessed interesting talents that while may be easily explained, would have consumed so much energy that he would have left him dead. Yet he did not seem to be phased in the slightest."

"Many strange haunts stalk this land, and not all of them are objects," said Brom. "It's not impossible that you and Naydel met one." He cast an amused glance at Rathon. "And speaking of the two of you, you seem…close" he said slyly. Rathon, contrary to Brom's expectation, remained calm and did not grow flustered.

"It's understandable how you might arrive at that conclusion. We are hardly separated throughout the day and we sleep in the same room. I, however, will not be the one to rebel against our King Eragon."

"You have grown," Katelyn said proudly.

"As have the two of you. My change was nothing exceptional."

Brom smiled and ruffled Rathon's hair. "Only someone who truly believes that statement would put it in past tense." Then he looked off at the sun, which was climbing rapidly to the center of the sky. "The day lengthens. It's time we go to meet with Eragon."

"I agree," Katelyn said. "We should go, before it gets too much later. All three of our reports from the past five years will take time to relay."

They both looked expectantly at Rathon, until he realized that they were waiting for his approval as well. He only came to that realization when Brom said, "You are a king as well Rathon, lord over the same amount of land as us. We have no right to instruct you what to do."

"Yes, let us go," Rathon said, hesitantly. Never, in all his life, had Brom cared for his approval. As the three rulers and their Seconds entered the palace, it did not even touch on Rathon's mind that a pair of partially slanted eyes watched his every move or that a pair of wolf ears listened to his every word.

* * *

><p>A half an hour later, the three rulers sat along a grand table arrayed with food and drinks in both magnificence and abundance. Three separate tablecloths of differing colors distinguished the table, though all three were apart of one large cloth. The far left was colored red and orange, bright as flame. The center was black and white, deep as the abyss. And the far right was gray and white, mysterious as the dark side of the moon. Along the edge of the cloth were three sets of two large thrones, set on opposite sides of the table, where the three and their Seconds were to sit. At the head of the table sat Eragon and Arya, seated in thrones handmade from gold and silver, respectively. No more age then when Rathon had left lined their faces. Coiled up behind Eragon was his massive sapphire dragon Saphira. Her mere presence had a weighted pressure on the room. Eragon stood and spread his hands.<p>

"Welcome back to Vroengard, my kings and queens. The joy I feel in my heart seeing the three of you is only rivaled by the interest I have to hear of your time as rulers." He sat and clasped his hands together on the table. "Now I would like, before you begin your tales, to be introduced to each of your companions, save for yours, Katelyn. I know her well. Brom, why don't you begin?"

Brom stood and bowed at the waist. "Thank you for your welcome, High King and Father." Rylar stood with a quick and almost practiced air. "May I introduce Rylar, daughter of Delnoon, to your royal majesties." Rylar bowed.

"Welcome to Doru Arabea," Eragon said. "I do believe this is your first visit?"

"Nay, Majesty."

Eragon raised an eyebrow. "Really? This is your first coming under my reign, or else my eyes have been sorely clouded. When have you set foot on these shores in the past?"

"Once when I was but a child. It was around six or seven years after you struck the Foul One down."

"Interesting." Eragon seemed to ponder something for a moment before he turned his attention to Brom. "And what was your reason for choosing her as a Second Hand, my son?"

"She displays talents of a virtuous and mindful nature in assisting me in ruling the elves."

"Very good. Rathon?"

Brom and Rylar sat, replaced by Rathon. "My Lord, this is Naydel, daughter of Cecile." He gestured to Naydel, who stood hesitantly, with eyes cast downward and slow movements. After a long moment, Rathon, with an encouraging look on his face, tapped the table three with his ring finger.

Naydel bowed and said, still bowed over, "What a tremendous honor it is to stand here before you, my king and queen. I cannot imagine I deserve to be here." When she rose, Eragon leaned over and whispered something to Arya, who nodded and said something in return.

"As long as my son holds you in such regard, you shall always be welcome in this palace." Rathon tapped the table twice and they both sat. "It occurred to me, Rathon, and Arya agrees, that Naydel speaks as a commoner would. I cast no aspiration on her, but would you care to explain that?"

"With eagerness, your Majesty. I met Naydel in an inn in Bullridge, five years ago. She was the one who allowed me to complete my training. I saved her from a man who was attacking her and she saved me from myself. I am indebted to her and so long as I am wielder of ShadowLight and the Lord of Man, she shall have a seat of exaltation in my house, for without her, I would be no one."

Eragon studied him for a long moment, a piercing gaze that bore through Rathon's scull and had a physical weight. Then he nodded and said, "Let it be, then. Katelyn, you have flown the longest, so I would not have you held awake any longer then need be; so you may share your tale first."

Therefore, Katelyn began. She told of the prosperity that now flourished underneath her reign; how the cities of stone and marble had been resurrected to their former glory and splendor. She told of how the population of dwarfs had grown to twice its size since the start of her rule, and how new cities were beginning to be made to accommodate the growth. While she spoke, Rathon unconsciously listened to her report, analyzing it for any inconsistencies. He didn't mean to do it, but after five years, it had become a habit. Then she spoke of the attack under Farthen Dur, how members of the Black Chamber had attempted to detonate the Star Sapphire to obliterate the dwarfs' courage.

"I can only imagine what they intended to if that goal was accomplished. Doubtless, rallying the dwarfs would be a difficult thing to do, but by no means would it be impossible. I regret to report that some hundred dwarfs were killed in the subsequent explosion. An uncounted number, though we surmise it was closing in on a thousand, were wounded, some fatally."

Eragon seemed ponderous for a moment, before he said, "Brom?"

Brom commenced with a long list of everything that had occurred since the moment he left Doru Arabea, all in a practiced calm voice that betrayed no more fact then what was said. Then he spoke of Rylar's coming, and how he had chosen her as his Second Hand because of her wit and her ability to, as Brom said, coerse his political rivals to submit to his ruling with less kicking and screaming. After that, it took Brom almost an hour and a half to complete his presentation. He finished by saying, "I have seen my fair share of the Black Chamber, though very little in the past year. That is all."

Eragon nodded slowly, then turned his gaze to Rathon. "Rathon. You are last before I make my decision. Your report will mean the difference about whether further rule is appropriate under the circumstances. Not just for you, but for all three."

_In other words, no pressure. _Leonis said.

And thus, Rathon began. He was slow at first, for the weight of the conversation was heavy upon him. But over time, the halts in his speech and memory ceased and he was able to speak smoothly and freely, with a confident air. Prior to beginning, he had been afraid that the activity with the Black Chamber, which bordered on splitting his kingdom in half, would be enough to convince Eragon he was not doing a satisfactory job in his kingship. Gradually, though, he overcame that fear. When he was finished, when the store of events was exhausted he said, "And that is everything, your highness," and sat. Eragon clasped his hands and leaned back.

Then he stood and said, "My rulers, I require a moment to think and converse with my advisers. But please, do not unseat yourselves. Remain where you are until I return."

All three rulers and their Second Hands stood and bowed as Eragon and Arya left the hall to speak with their advisers and to make their choice.

When they sat, Nayter and Naydel, who in the extremely short amount of time they had known each other had become the best of friends, began speaking with each other. It apparently amused the both of them the first part of their names that they shared. Brom began to eat, as he had not consumed a single bite while the other two had been speaking.

"Were all the men that attacked the Star Sapphire magicians?" he asked Katelyn.

Katelyn, who also was eating, swallowed and said, "It appears as though they were. It's beyond me how any one magician could summon an explosion of that size by themselves, especially when they were under pressure."

"Perhaps there was only one magician and he simply used the energy from his compatriots to amplify his magic."

"That might be true, but if it were, why get so close to Isidar Mithrim? Why not take it out from a distance?"

Brom took a long draft of wine before replying. "Isidar Mithrim is quite large, Katelyn. Using magic alone, I think even I might have trouble with a task so difficult."

Rathon had been about to say something when smooth skin ran over his foot. He looked down and saw Rylar's perfectly sculpted toes running down his foot. He looked up at her and saw her mouth the words, _I want you. _Rathon opened his mouth once more, but he bit his lip as images of her naked body ran through his mind. The sensations he was feeling around him return to that day on Delnoon's farm. He could smell the exotic scent of her skin, feel the heat coming off her body. He could feel the nub of her nipple as he rubbed her perfect breasts. He could feel the fire as she touched him and the inferno that had been in him when he entered her. And for a moment he thought, _I want that again,_ and was about to respond to Rylar's seduction with mental instructions about where to be when the meal was finished, when Naydel took his hand in hers and a different heat came to him. It was not a fire of lust, but of a desire to protect her and care for her, though it burned just as hot. He looked at her, saw her warm smile and affectionate eyes.

"We've done well, haven't we?"

"Yes," he said after a moment. "We have." Then he looked at Rylar and entered her mind, which unlike last time they met was left open to him, and filled her mind with his presence.

_How bad do you want me? _she asked in a playful, seductive voice. She knew she had lost, that fact was evident in her mind, but she persisted nonetheless.

_Heed the gravity of my words, Rylar, for I will speak only once. Though the fires of your seduction may burn as hot as the flames of hell, I shall never sacrifice my will to them. I am different then when last we met; I have changed more then you can overcome._

Rylar's eyes flicked to Naydel. _Oh, you love her._

_You don't have the right to speak that word_,_ love, for its true meaning is beyond your ability to grasp._

_And yet, I do. _Rathon left her mind then, for at that moment Eragon reentered the room.

"My rulers," he said, stopping beside his throne, but he did not sit. "We have decided."

"And what is your decision, your majesty?" Brom asked.

"My three advisors, whom gave you your Spells, are unanimous for each of you. Continued reign is appropriate." Rathon, Brom and Katelyn all smiled with triumph. "And now for the part that must undoubtedly be weighing on your thoughts like a bag of bricks. The conditions with which you have reigned, whether they stay, or go." The three of them leaned forward, their breath held for the words had been waiting for five years to hear. Eragon seemed to think for a long while, then he smiled and lifted his head. "They are lifted."

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><p><strong>Hey, everbody. Did I misspell everybody right there? Yes, I did. But I'm lazy, because my swimming coach decided to bomb us with a four hour practice yesterday, so I'm not going to trouble my pinky finger to reach over half a mile so that it can press the backspace. <strong>

**Really fast, does anyone know why Friday is so close to Monday, but Monday is soooooooo far from Friday. I was going sleep in and then go out for some paintball or airsoft today, but I decided to be a trooper and update sooner. (You're welcome) I also wanted to write the fallowing good bye in Romaji, English letters Japanese word, but FanFiction has decided to be not so awsome. (Another misspelling and still too lazy to fix it!)**

**So, until when next I update, remember these words. Hajimasenraitsu, katanasaru matasi yatsukatsuri. (What does that mean? Well, I'll tell you….I have no idea.) **


	16. No Cool Name Part III

Lone-grey-koas-wolf: I can explain both of your problems. First, I would have liked to do more talking with them, but I try and keep each chapter inside a reasonable range of three thousand to four thousand words. Any more then that and the reader is more likely to just skim through; any less and their more then likely to just not read it in general. And second, there's nothing I like more than a good cliffhanger. Sadly, had I done that, the chapter that followed it would very short, because if you notice I switched Rathon's point of veiw from inside the throne room to his chambers and I did that for a very specific reason. If I had stopped the chapter after Eragon left, I would have had to pull some random stuff out to get Rathon to his chambers in a short order, in accordance with the first explanation I gave.

rEdRoSeSiNaUgUsT: :) I only wish.

Owltalon: Something tells me, you aren't going to enjoy the next five to six chapters then.

BlakDawn: :) Warmer then some other first choices, but you're still a way's off. A couple of the options you posed are sort of true, I guess. Not a 100%, but sort of.

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><p>Rathon opened the door to his old chambers deep within the heart of one of the Riders' Halls, a host of fourteen riders he had known when he lived on the island following him. They spoke to him with enigmatic zeal of children speaking to their best friend. Many hours of celebration had taken place since Eragon affirmed their continued reign and lifted the conditions from them. Darkness filled the room so deeply that they could not see. Rathon, however, as Master of Light and Shadows, could see as clearly as if it were day. He held up his hand and said, "Light, illuminate this room." ShadowLight, in the form of a ring, expelled bright rays and streams of light that splashed up on everything in the room like water, lightning it perfectly.<p>

"That's incredible, Rathon," one of his closest followers, a rider named Kartha, said.

"Indeed," Rathon said. "If I focus ShadowLight I could turn this whole room into a palace of the heavens."

"How is it even possible, this spell?" Another asked.

"The Three Great Spells, wielded by myself, Katelyn and Brom, are unexplainable. They may have been the weapons of a god, with which they constructed this world. On the other hand, they could just as easily be some cosmic accident. They are sentient, though. They are as much living things as we are. That tells me not that they were once objects for a higher person to wield, but perhaps gods themselves. They coexist, which is strange."

His last line confused the others. "What do you mean?"

"It would be easier to show you." He rose out an arm and ShadowLight liquidized into its spherical shape, floating over his palm. "I'll demonstrate. Separate," he commanded the spell. Like rip running down cloth, Shadow and Light separated.

"The Spells are composed of two different…spirits?"

"Aye. The spirits of different elements of the world are what make up these Spells. Lunar and Mist. Blood and Fire. Shadow and Light. Tell me, why would ShadowLight raise an eyebrow?"

The riders around him remained silent, until a voice from behind them said, "Because anytime light touches a shadow the shadows are destroyed. Therefore, how can they coexist with such perfect ease?" The riders parted to reveal a tall figure draped in a ragged clock standing in the doorway.

"Who are you?" one asked. "You have no business in the Riders' Hall."

The figure reached up to pull back his hood, and when Rathon saw his arm, a smile stretched his face. A black dragon tattoo ran the length his right hand.

"Calibor."

"It's good to see you," Calibor said, flicking his hair to the side to get it out of his eyes. Rathon and embraced his hand. A spark jumped between their skins before the contact. Rathon raised an eyebrow. Calibor shrugged.

"Traveling for as long and as far as I have builds up friction."

"I didn't expect to see you for years," Rathon said. "You said you wouldn't be back for some time."

Calibor fainted to one side, appearing weak. He caught himself and stood back up. "True. I didn't say it would be some time for you. How long has passed since our last meeting? Ten, eleven years?"

Rathon eyes narrowed in confusion. "A little over a fortnight."

"Oh, yes. Forgive me."

Rathon looked around at the other riders, who were listening with an equal amount of interest and eagerness. "Leave us." With muttered words of disapproval they left, casting glances at Calibor. Rathon took Calibor by the hand and led him to a sofa. "You don't look so good." Calibor's usual lordly stance was stooped and hunched, and his right arm, the one that bore the dragon tattoo, quivered visibly.

"Don't I," Calibor said with a forced laugh. He groaned as he sat. "Forgive me once more. I am the Lord of Dragons and should appropriate an appearance that befits that title, shouldn't I? I have come from so far, however. Eleven years have passed by my eye and yet only ten days by yours."

"Where did you go?"

"No place, no time. Did I mention I was stepping outside time and space when last our paths converged? I can hardly recall."

"I imagined it was a figure of speech. How is it possible out of the bounds of time?"

A faint smile came across Calibor's weary face. "Anything is possible when you hold the Four Great Spells."

"Four? But there are only three."

"Nay, child. There are four. The fourth is youngest and most feeble. One created only recently, somewhere in the past three hundred years. FutureStar."

"Why haven't I heard of this before?"

"Because it was Galbatorix that found, so it was Galbatorix that acclaimed credit for it. With it, he was able to see into your mind, reading it before it was written."

"But he's dead now. Eragon and Aesire killed him."

"Did they?"

A knock came from the door. Rathon looked to it, then back at Calibor, but he had vanished. Embroidered on the sofa were the words, _Tell no one but Naydel of my return. _Then those too, vanished as if they had never existed.

Naydel opened the door and said, "Rathon?" Seeing him as he stood up she said, "Why didn't you answer?"

"I was thinking."

"About something that must be very weighted if it eliminated your ability to hear," said Brom from outside the door. Rathon flicked his finger, manipulating the energy in his body, as he once had done, to open the door fully. Brom, Naydel, and to his surprise, Nayter stood in the entrance. Brom examined the door.

"How do you do that without effort?"

Rathon shrugged. "Practice."

Brom looked back at him for a brief moment and then returned his eyes to the door. "Of which, as far as I know, you had very little time for. Be that as it may," he said, letting the matter pass. Naydel had begun exploring the room while they were talking.

"So this was your room when you were a rider?"

"No," Rathon said. "I wasn't a rider until after I met you, and after that I became a king and this ceased being my room until now. So, appropriately speaking, this is my room now." He glanced at Brom. "For all purposes do you and Katelyn qualify as Master Riders?"

"Technically, no. We never did have a public ceremony, so we don't qualify."

Naydel, who apparently had not been listening, said, "Hat it not been occupied since your departure, no?"

"Yes," Rathon said hesitantly.

"Therefore it has always been your room. Whether you be boy, king or rider is irrelevant.

Brom clapped his hands, clearing his throat. "Excuse me, madam, but I wish to speak with my brother alone. If you would be so kind as to depart."

Naydel left without protest, after a short nod from Rathon, but Nayter hesitated. "I too wished to speak with him."

"You shall have your turn; as the king of elves that is a promise I make to you."

With long hesitation, she left. Brom ruffled Rathon's hair again and sat in the sofa, where only minutes before Calibor had sat. It occurred to Rathon, how very alike the two were.

"You've done well," Brom said. "Rylar told me what happened that day during your riders training. I'm more proud then displeased. Resisting her is… an admirable accomplishment."

"Did you know her, the last time she came here?"

"I believe, though I dare say I shall never raise the issue with her, that she saw me while she was here and believed me to be you when the two of you met."

"She mentioned that someone, a he, said that I, or rather you, weren't supposed to be in Bullridge. Was that you she referred to?"

Brom shook his head. "No. I have never spoken a word to her until the day she was waiting for me inside my throne room."

A long moment of wonderment followed, a time when neither spoke nor neither was aware of the other's silence. Then Rathon asked, "What did you need to tell me?"

"I will be leaving early tomorrow morning for Du Weldenvarden. The elves have gone long enough without me. It's time for me to return to them."

Rathon felt a change in Brom. He was more distant than ever, talking as though he was now more elf then human. _I guess he inherited that from Mother, whereas I got Father's human nature. He belongs with the elves. _Ever since Eragon had crowned Brom lord of the elves, Rathon had been jealous that his father gave him the weakest of the races and Brom the strongest. Now he knew that Brom belonged with the elves as a stag would belong in the forest or a dragon in the air. "You've been gone only a few days."

Brom smiled and stood. "Rathon, if only that measurement of time could be a short span for a king. A day is like a year to me." Brom's eyes grew distant then, as if he was dreaming of a far off place. "The elves songs at night call to me. I must return to them. I wished you to know firstly, though, that I am proud to name you my brother. So until when next our duties allow us to meet, I bid thee farewell, Brother." With grace fit for the mightiest of lords, kings and gods, Brom bowed and strode out of the room.

_He was born to be a king, _Rathon thought. Nayter entered after Brom had left. Her wolf ears flicked as he stepped around her. Expecting friendly banter, Rathon and held out a hand, then flinched as he found her arms wrapped around him. Not knowing what to do, he placed a hand on the small of her back.

"I thought that this day would never come," she said. She looked up at him and said, "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, Nayter. If I may ask, how did you get across the room so quickly and quietly?"

"I'm a wolf," she with a small laugh, flicking her ears. Then she said, in an almost upset voice, "Stealth is in our blood. Without it, we die of starvation."

"You're not a wolf," he said, sensing what troubled her. "At least not to me, regardless how much you resemble one."

"Thank you," she said. "You don't know how much that comforts me." After a long moment, she stepped and sniffed. "When will you and Naydel be returning to Ilirea?"

"Late tomorrow or early the next day. I'd like to get back as soon as possible, but Leonis finds it difficult to fly at night."

"I wish I was a Rider."

"You may someday yet be."

She looked at him skeptically. "How so?"

"King Eragon, for instance, did not become a Rider until he was almost a man. No elf in the Old Order became a rider until at least the age of twenty, unless circumstances had other plans. Who knows what fate has in store."

"Could not you find out? ShadowLight allows you to see in the past, does it not?"

"Not only see, but affect. And not only the past, either." Rathon looked down at his ring. The Ring of ShadowLight. _A power I plan not to access, _he thought. "A great deal of risk is involved, though. If you tamper with time too much, you may end up altering more then you intend." At her confused expression he elaborated, "Let's say, for the sake of example, that I used ShadowLight's power to reach back and affect time so that I achieved my final rider training inside a week. Everything that has followed from that event, Naydel and my kingship to name but two, may have ceased to be a part of my life. It is impossible to predict how changing something a year ago will affect now."

"You could not use it to simply see, and not change?"

Rathon thought back to the Book of ShadowLight, buried until mountains of protective spells deep with his personal quarters in Ilirea. It spoke only of how one who wielded ShadowLight could affect the past, the present and the future, not that they could see it. However, he saw no reason the latter was not possible. Even still, he said, "I would not use it even if I could. The risk is too high. I would have to sacrifice some part of me to complete the spell, and there is every likelihood that ShadowLight would choose for me what was to be taken."

"A pity," she said. She looked out the window. Dusk fast approached, with young riders out flying the warm thermals of the oceans current. "I wish I could fly like they can. They do it as though it is nothing, as simple as wakening in the morning. Yet I am bound to the earth as a slave is to his master."

An idea suddenly occurred to him. After a split moment of thinking, he raised a hand and said, "Would you like to?"

"Like to what?"

"Fly. I can. Zodion taught me many things about the manipulation of energy. If I apply myself, I can fly with it."

"Is it entirely safe?" she asked, seeming hesitant, but willing.

"Yes. Even if gravity was a thousand times as powerful as it is now, it could not overcome both my…expertise in energy manipulation as well as ShadowLight."

Taken his hand she said, "In that case, yes I would."

"Come then," he said, guiding her to the window. He opened with his concentrated will and they both stepped up the window's edge, inches from the edge. A hundred feet below the ground sprawled out, with elves, humans and dwarfs walking about. The distance made Nayter's head spin. "Do not fear. It will take about two seconds for my energy to begin holding us up. I have to send it all the way to the ground in order for it to support us. This is a strenuous task, but I will not loss my control over it. I tell you this, because in those two seconds we will fall without support and it will feel as though we are going to land on the ground. I promise, however, that you could not be in safer or more experienced hands. My power in this art rivals, perhaps surpasses, Zodion's. So, will you jump with me?" Nayter looked down at the far drop. A fall from that height would certainly kill her. However, Rathon took her hand in his, and all fear was dispelled. She looked over into his deep blue eyes as he said, "I promise you: you are safe and no harm will befall you this day."

She nodded and said, "I will do it."

Rathon took a preparatory step back and said, "Whatever happens, don't let go of my hand. I'm strong enough to support your weight for hours on end, but only so long as you are holding on."

"I will," Nayter said. No force of heaven or earth could make her let go, and not because she would fall to her demise. Indeed, she had spent the better part of her childhood dreaming of holding his hand.

Rathon watched the shifting clouds for a moment until he said, "Now." And they both jumped from the window. Nayter's heart skipped a beat as they plummeted to the ground below. Her hair swirled around them in a confused storm of strands. In that instant Nayter's whole life flashed before her and she knew she was about to die. Then, they stopped. She had sealed her eyes closed, but Rathon nudged her.

"Open your eyes. See that I spoke the truth. You are safe and all is well around you." Nayter slowly opened her eyes to see that was standing on nothing, suspended hundreds of feet in the air. Looking back, she saw the Riders' Hall dwindling behind them. Rathon flew like a dragon through the sky. He dipped down until they flew at a great speed only feet above the ocean's calm surface. Nayter reached down and let her fingers fly through the water. Then Rathon broke up and flew through a cloud above and into the rays of shimmering gold from the sun. The sky was a pale pink and yellow on the horizon. They flew there from some time, before Rathon dipped once more and seemed to release his grip on his energy manipulation, so that they fell at ever-increasing speed to the city below.

Nayter began to grow fearful as the ground approached, thinking Rathon would be able to stop in time. Just as the last fifty feet passed them, Rathon tightened his palm in force and they pulled up from the dive, skimming the streets of Vroengard by nearly a foot and a half. Rathon sent a burst of energy through his feet, propelling them forward again as they raced through the city, twisting and turning, spinning and spiraling through the streets like maddened hornets flying in escape. At every turn, Nayter was convinced they were about to crash into a building when Rathon would twist his leg or flex his hand, and they would turn from the object in their path without harm. Then they broke up into the clouds, joining the young rider and their dragons above.

* * *

><p><em>Little one, <em>Saphira said from beside him. _What is that?_

Eragon followed her gaze up into the clouds and saw with his hawkeyed vision a man and a woman floating in the clouds' soft embrace. _Rathon? _Eragon thought as he recognized him. _Who is he with? Naydel?_

_Nay, _Saphira said. _She has…wolf ears and a tail._

_Nayter, _Eragon thought. A creeping sensation ran down his back. The voice from so long ago that he had almost forgotten it spoke once more. The voice of the raw evil that existed in Galbatorix's mind when they fought returned to his mind.

_Behold, my words have been proven. Behold, the Wolf in the Clouds. Behold, the seed of the destruction of your world. Behold, the Beginning of the End._

_That's impossible, _Eragon thought_. Nayter? _


	17. Succumbing

**Owltalon: :) Well, I'm surprised. That was the idea! And it worked. I sort of surprised some of you didn't read the whole, "Wolf in the clouds," quip. **

**Eradon son of awesomeness: :) More or less. Not going into detail because that would destroy the whole sensation of cliffhanging, which I must say is rather enjoyable. P.S. Love the name, and I do not say that to many people. **

**Lone-grey-koas-wolf: Well, at the time I wrote this review my word is up to 3,142, although by the time I put it up it will likely be somewhere in the 3,400ish range. Enjoy!**

**BlakDawn: :) Thought occurred to me, and then I decided that was a bit too predictable. In response to your response to my response to your review, what I meant was that if you have all the pieces to the story, like I do, your possible scenarios could make sense if I used them instead of the actual one, even though I'm going down the much less predictable path when it comes to Rylar. **

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><p><em><strong>I feel it's important to note that a good hour of the usual three hours I spend preparing these chapters for your scroll wheels was spent correct<strong>_

my own mistakes. This is due to the fact that I had just finished listening to 5 straight hours of endless Nyan cat, and (if you've ever heard it)

needless to say I was ready shot myself.

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><p>Brom made his way through the Riders' Hall, making his way in the crowd of shifting people to the room his heart yearned to be in. He found it, and using Zacaid's nose, smelt her scent from outside the door. He took a deep breath in and tapped the door twice. After a short moment, the chamber doors creaked up and Katelyn stepped out. She was in her sleeping clothes, her brown hair tumbling down her back and shoulders in messy curls. Sleep was heavy in her eyes, though BloodFire was worn as crown on her head, as if she was going somewhere. Before she addressed him, she opened her hand, looking at BloodFire and reformed into a necklace around her neck.<p>

"Much better," she said. "Brom, what an unexpected surprise. Please, come in." He went into her room after her and she closed the door. She closed the door and said, "What can I do for…"

Before she could finish her sentence Brom took her hand in his, stopping her. LunarMist and BloodFire dissolved from their respective positions and ran down their owners' arms to come into contact. The air shivered as the two spells touched.

"Katelyn," he said, willing her to heed the urgency in his voice. "My heart cannot go another minute bearing these words behind locked doors. Their power is greater then even LunarMist's and I cannot contain them any longer." He took a deep breath before saying, "Ever since my heart was old enough to comprehend the meaning, I have loved you, Katelyn. My affections for you are so blinding I cannot bear to look inside myself at it." He went down on one knee, still holding her hand. "I would sacrifice everything, my title, my power, my Spirit, if I could but be with you." As silence fell in the room lowered his head. "These are the words I wished to say. Do with them what you see fit."

For a stifling minute Brom remained like that, content to wait as long as need be, but painfully aware of each passing second. Then two of her soft fingers touched his forehead. He looked up at her to see her warm look of affection that made the stone wall he had spent his entire life building around his heart melt.

"Brom, son of Eragon, King of Elves. With you, I would love to be. But a higher purpose calls us." She knelt down in front of him, staring straight into his eyes. "We are the guiders to the people of Alageasia. We hold the torch for the people who dwell in a cave. We hold the hands of the blind and guide them around danger. We were chosen for this for a reason, and we cannot shirk it now. The Black Chamber swiftly rises and we cannot afford distractions of any kind. Maybe before, but not now. Do you understand, Brom? Tis not that we shouldn't, but that we can't. It could be disastrous. Do you understand?"

Brom looked down at the floor and then briskly stood. He snapped his fingers, drawing LunarMist back from BloodFire. Rebuilding the walls on his heart once again he said, "Aye, Queen BloodFire, I understand. To what degree is questionable, but aye, I understand." As he stormed out, he heard Katelyn say, "Brom," but he had left. When he exited the Riders' Hall, he punched his knee, glaring at the ground. "That's what you get for opening your heart like that. Never again," he growled to himself. He strode off at a quick pace to his own chambers.

Back in the room, Katelyn and rubbed her arm. A creeping feeling was running down her spine, making her hair stand on end. Calibor spoke in her thoughts. "_I saw a man cloaked in black, who calls himself your friend and confesses his love to you, will be seduced by a great evil that stalks this land and that calls the city of Eoam it's home. He will be seduced by it, fall in with it, and betray you to it."_

_It can't be, _she thought.

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><p>Brom opened the doors to his chambers, pent up anger animating his features. He saw Rylar sitting at a desk in the far corner.<p>

"Rylar," he said.

She turned and said, "Master. How may I…"

"Come," he said.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Master?"

"I said come. Specifically, here."

She stood and approached him, stopping a foot away from him. "What can I do for you…" Before she finished her sentence Brom wiped his hand out and pulled her closer, locking his mouth with his. She gasped in surprise and then moaned as his tongue invaded her mouth. She flicked her tongue at his and then began to play with it, rolling hers over his. Rylar ran her hands through his hair. When he pulled back, Rylar wrapped a leg around his waist.

"Master," she said in a seductive voice. "You are certainly in a good mood this night."

Growling in affirmation, he turned his attention to her luscious breasts. With a flick of his mind and an order to LunarMist, the strands of cloth hiding them disintegrated like dust. She laughed and then gasped as he rolled his thumbs over her erect nipples. Rylar pushed her leggings down to her ankles, baring her completely naked. Brom took a moment to examine her honey toned skin before he picked her up by her hips and carried her to the bed. He set her down and looked down at her, free and open, willing and eager, ready to submit to his every desire. He only knew those things because she had informed him of them on innumerable occasions.

"This shall change noting between the two of us," he said. "I may partake of you on some occasions, but in all else it shall be as the first day you met me. You understand?"

She nodded and said in her husky voice, "I want nothing more then to feel you inside of me, Master."

While they spoke briefly, Brom had been working at the ties to his leggings and when he finally got them loose, he pushed them down his member leapt out to meet its calling. He sucked in his breath as Rylar sat up and wrapped one of her smooth hands around the base of it.

"Master," she said, running her hands up and down. "It's magnificent."

Pushing her back onto the bed, Brom stripped off his tunic then placed his member on top of her opening, where he paused. After nearly a minute, Rylar reached down wrapped her fingers around him.

"Do it hard," she said. "Do it fast. On the count of three, Master?" He nodded. "One. Two." She didn't make it to three, for just as she was about to say it, he plunged inside of her. She let out an erotic groan and fell back on the bed. Brom, disregarding her admonishment, took his time bringing her to the edge of climax again and again before pulling out. For almost an hour he did this, over and over again until Rylar was tossing and turning, her womanhood a burning patch of lust and desire. Then she grabbed the tip of him and ran her fingers over it desperately.

"Stop teasing me," she said in a voice that thrummed with lust. "Please," she said pleadingly. "Make love to me. Do it now."

Brom pushed her further in the bed so they lay in the center of it. He lied on his back and set her on top of him, so she straddled his waist. She took him in her hand and then slid him inside of her. Brom gripped her by her butt and began thrusting into her, harder and faster each time. Tremors began to wrack Rylar's body as she tightened around him. Then she reached down and gripped his scrotum.

The fire of that grip sent a surge of lust through him. He pushed up on his legs, lifting her with him, and began pounding into her with blinding speed and strength. Brom felt his load gathering inside of him, ready to expel out. Just as he was about to release it, Rylar reached up to the ceiling of the bed and pushed down as hard as she could as he was pushing up with all his might. They met in the middle with an explosion of sensations as Brom released. Rylar let out a scream of ecstasy. She collapsed on his chest. He continued to pump into her for another minute before he was drained.

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><p>Brom, as he said he would, left early the next morning. He said his goodbyes and had climbed onto Zacaid, looking out at towards the forests he called his home. Rylar left less eagerly. She had looked back at Rathon, one leg one Zacaid's foreleg and had said, "I shall see you again, Rathon. I shall have you."<p>

Rathon did not say a word as she mounted Zacaid and the azure dragon took to the air. She was not worth growing flustered over. He had given her too much satisfaction to begin with. With the thunder of crashing wind, Zacaid lift himself into flight and angled them towards Du Weldenvarden, flying to it without wavering left or right.

"You will see him again," said an old voice from behind him. Rathon turned and smiled.

"Greetings, Master," he said, dipping into a waist bow as Zodion approached, hidden in the dark.

"Bowing is needed not in this context, Rathon. Indeed, it should be I who bows to you." Dropping the subject, since he knew Zodion never bowed to anyone regardless their rank, he turned back to where Brom and Zacaid flew headlong for the mainland. Zodion joined him.

"And how has the power I was forced to hold for neigh two decades treated you, my disciple?"

"Well indeed, Master. Why do you say you were forced?"

"I never wanted ShadowLight. You're careless with any power handed to you that you do not work to attain." He opened his palm to look down at the shard tied to his hand. "Wresting this from me would be a challenge not for the faint of heart. For it was by my hand that I came to possess it, and I will defend it as such." Twisting with ease born for years of experience, Zodion opened his hand the crystal shone with a silver light before it released the built up energy, erasing a stone vase that sat twenty yards from existence. "As I once said, your power in this art would one day outstrip mine by a thousand leagues. How fares your training in this talent of yours and mine?"

Unlike Zodion, Rathon did not require a focuser or amplifier for the manipulation of energy into offensive or defensive magic's. That was the reason Zodion predicted Rathon would one day be better at it then he. However, this advantage was blessing and a curse. While the power to use it could never be stolen away from him, like Zodion's, it was tethered to his own energy limits, exactly like ordinary magic. Zodion, however, had unlimited stores of power built up over more years then Rathon had been alive. If he used more energy then what was in his body, he had oceans of energy built in the crystal to rely upon.

Rathon pointed with his right hand up to a wisp of cloud that floated above, and sent a focused beam of energy to it, eradicating it. "I have trouble sometimes, when I'm in a fight, aiming the energy properly. That's why I didn't use it against the Black Chamber when they surrounded us."

Zodion frowned. "Didn't I teach you how to pulsate energy?" Pulsating energy was the incredibly difficult art of sending energy out every point in your body and sending it outward, while simultaneously growing the energy and expanding it. This formed what was referred to as a pulse, which could rip apart anything that stood in its path, in any direction. In desperate circumstances, it could obliterate an army. A knowledgeable energy manipulator, like Zodion, could use the technique without fear. However, a more novice user might send too much energy out one point, which would start a rather complex chain reaction which would result in his body being ripped apart. In truth, even if he was more confident in his prowess as a manipulator, he would not have attempted it, for fear of harming Naydel. He did not want to admit his feelings to Zodion, though.

"I know the technique, Master. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances though."

Zodion's eyes grew suspicious. "I heard you describe them to Katelyn. They could not have been more ideal. Forty men forming a circle around you. What more ideal circumstances can there be?"

"I…did not want to risk harming who I was with."

"Naydel?"

"Aye." Rathon had expected an argument to break out about his apparent lack of regard for Eragon's two rulings, and he had begun to form a counterargument, when Zodion turned away to the waters again. After a long moment, Rathon said, "Master?"

"Aye?"

"Do you not wish to question me about what happened?"

"No, I don't."

Surprise enveloped Rathon. When he was younger and still undergoing instruction from Zodion, his teacher would punish him for the smallest deviation from what Zodion believed to be the proper technique. It was strange that he knew Rathon had broken a rule and did not want to question him.

"If I may be so bold, Master, may I ask why you do not?"

"I've been through what you have, Rathon. Ostracized from your family and having an older brother that you live in the shadow of. We are alike in many more ways. Once, when I was far younger then I am now, my father sent me out into the land, to prove what I could to him. But I met with no success. I was never born to be a merchant. So I returned, expecting him to, in the very least, give me back my old room. But nay. He turned me away as he would a starving dog. I wondered the streets during winter, hiding where I could. I was weak, pitiful." A fierce smile came to his lips. "Then I met her. I woman of unsurpassed bravery and power. She took me under her wing and trained me to strike without hesitation or mercy. She taught me of the world and how evil it was, and how you must fight for the right to survive in it." His fierce expression dimmed slightly. "And then, in a single moment, she was torn from me. Killed in a bounty hunter mission by a sword that descended from on high to swiftly and a shield that rose ever to slowly. And I had not the power to save her. So I set out to find that power. And so, I am who I am today because of her. Without her, I highly doubt I would be alive right now. And if I were alive, I would be living in such a way that you could call it anything but living." He struck Rathon with a gaze Rathon was quite accustomed to. A glance that revealed no emotion and would be coaxed to do so. "We are similar, Rathon. In fact, if someone was telling a story right now and using us as the characters in said story, I would have to say he or she is pretty unoriginal when it comes to brotherly relationships." Someone called Rathon's name from the stairs. Zodion nodded and said, "Farewell, then," and he vanished into the shadows.

Before Rathon had time to protest his leaving, Naydel's head became visible beyond the stairs and a moment later she ascended into his view. She wore a flowing sapphire gown that was touched with silver slippers and a circlet of gold on her head.

"Whatever are you doing? It's hardly dawn." She said, smiling at him.

He took her hand in his as she moved beside him pointing off in the distance where Brom had neigh disappeared. "Look carefully. Brom and Zacaid. I wished to watch them leave."

"You have a healed relationship with your brother, I hope. Is that a hope kept in vain?"

"I'm not sure. He spoke to me before he left in a manner he has never done in all my life. As if I was his equal."

"You are his equal."

"He's not done well proving that. Regardless, I do believe we have made up. For whatever childish quarrel we once had is gone, eradicated by our years of kingship and the time we've spent apart."

She rested her head on his chest. "When will we leave to return to Ilirea?"

"Tomorrow, I thought. That way, when we actually get there it won't be the middle of the day and we'll have no sleep to battle the day's affairs with."

"Well thought through. I'll make preparations for it."

"Thank you," he said as she stepped away.

* * *

><p>Rathon's dreams were restless that night. For without explanation, nightmares beset him. He saw twisted red skies and scorched black earth, bodies littering the area for miles. He swam through an ocean of blood, searching for some light in the darkness. He called to everything and everyone he could, to his friends and family and even to the power of ShadowLight, but there was no reply. And as he was about to give up hope, a voice sounded in the distance. It was familiar, but he could not force himself to remember from whom it came.<p>

"_Who are you?" He called out. "I know you, but I cannot remember who you are."_

_Then the voice, disembodied though it was, came to him and spoke to him as though the person were standing just behind. It was the voice of a woman, that much was clear, but could not remember who._

"_You don't remember me? I am the missing piece of the puzzle. The last dreg of power you seek. You don't know who I am? I belong to your heart, Rathon. Look inside it, and you shall find me. Soon, very soon, you shall know."_

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><p><strong>So. If you didn't catch it in the chapter reviews, I spent five hours listening to endless Nyan cat. My brain…I don't know, it just….stopped. If you've never heard of Nyan Cat, I have two things to say to you.<strong>

**1. ****Shame on you, it's like one of the major YouTube viral videos. ****2. ****SAVE YOURSELF! IT IS THE MOST RETARDED THING I HAVE EVER LISTENED TO IN MY LIFE. THE FACE THE CAT IS MAKING….ITS LIKE ITS LAUGHING AT YOUR PAIN! TAKE IT FROM! I SURVIVED, BUT YOU MIGHT NOT. JUST…..save yourself.**


	18. The Beginning

**Aaaaaaaaannnnnnnnddddddd...midterms are FINALLY over. :) That took so long. My brain is throbbing. All I want to do is go play laser tag or paintball or something mildly enjoyable that doesn't make me want to strangle someone. But I have to sit here and study. :) But I shall prevail!**

**_Before I get to the chapter reviews I feel it pertinent to point out two things. _**

**_A. _****_BOOK FOUR IS LIKE TWO WEEKS AWAY! _****_B. _****_The following chapter has not been edited by my beta reader, so forgive me for any errors in grammar or sentence structure. And note to my beta, I apologize, but it's officially been a month since I last updated, so I thought that I'd let you get to the chapter when you had the time._**

**And now back to our regularly scheduled program.**

**Riptide: The thought briefly came to mind to have that happen, but that would require several chapters of makeup stuff that I just did not want to do. ****J**

**Owltalon: Yeah, I tried to leave the "bull-crap-prophecy-that-I-have-to-scramble-to-make-come-true-thirty-chapters-down-the-line" back in the old stories. Let me just say: you are a brave soul for enduring that abomination for more than fifty seconds. A month later and my brain's still recovering.**

**BlakDawn: Yeah, he was upset, but more things than that fueled his actions, and that will be explained later on. (P.S that's also an explanation for his OOC. Trust me, I don't like it anymore than you do. Possibly less so. P.S.S I agree with the Rylar statement) This isn't the first time I've used this OOC, and it likely won't be the last, but I make a promise to you specifically that I'm not using it just to get out of how I've made a person's character and that if you give me enough time I'll explain it. I just can't explain right now, due to spoiler reasons. **

**Lone-grey-koas-wolf: Well hopefully I did a bit better with the length on this one. According to my number counter it's about 3,689 at the time I wrote this sentence. Of course, then you have to add in all the words that I will write at the bottom of this chapter, and then all the words that Word doesn't pick up as words, like misspellings. And there's the fact that I'm purposefully making this response as long as physically possible in order to get more words on. ****J**

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><p>Like peaceful birds Leonis, Rathon and Naydel floated over the calm vista below them. It was early morning the day after they had left Doru Arabea. Leonis had spent the night flying over the seas and the main body of Alagaesia, back to the city they called home.<p>

"Was it as good as you expected?" Naydel asked sleepily behind. She was resting her head on his back and drowsing in and out of sleep in the warm air and wind.

"Yes, it was," Rathon replied. "Not seeing Katelyn and Brom for five years was a task I found difficult. But now, that task is complete, and I could not be more satisfied with the result"

He felt her faint smile on his shoulder blade. "Are Katelyn and Brom Master Riders?"

"No," he said. He had spoken with Eragon before he and his father parted, and he had had said that he wished for the peoples of the world to accept Katelyn and Brom as higher then Riders, since that was what they were. "He said that when next we come to Vroengard, together, he shall anoint them with their titles." He fingered one Leonis' hard red scales. It was brilliant on one side, rather dull on the other. _He needs a bath_, Rathon thought. "It's all Katelyn has ever wanted with her life; to be a full and Master Rider and to teach the younger generations. It's regrettable that she would have to deny it to serve as Queen."

"It hardly seems like one would choose rider over ruler."

Rathon smiled humorously. "If you had only known Katelyn before the moment she instructed me to seat myself during your ordeal in Bullridge. She was like a fiery beacon of the Riders; the First of the New Order."

"Is that a title of hers?"

"Aye. Aesire foresaw that she would be a rider before she was even born, and she was the first of the new order of riders."

"He's a strange man, Aesire."

"He's the wisest I've ever known."

"What of Zodion?"

"When I was younger and sought Zodion as a Master, I wanted power and that is what I received. Power enough to lift my body a mile over the land. I didn't want wisdom, and so I did not gain it. Zodion was power, Aesire was wisdom. Very simple explanation to a very simple question. I found what I sought."

Naydel was silent for a moment, long enough to make him think she had fallen asleep, when asked, "What will happen when Eragon steps down from the High Throne?"

Rathon paused. That had been a topic of great interest at their meeting. "When he steps down, and who knows when that will be for he is immortal by the standards of man, he will choose from one of the three lower rulers to take his place."

"What would happen with the kingdom that that ruler left behind?"

"He or she would pick someone they trust and crown them the ruler. And then the cycle repeats." He looked back at her. "For instance, do you recall, on the first day you came to Ilirea, and I said that I crowned you Queen as my successor?"

"Yes."

"What I did by doing that, was giving you the Kingdom of Man in the event of my death or Eragon choosing me to be High King."

"It seems a sensible way of running a government, but what if the High King or Queen chose someone with evil in their heart."

"We have ways of dealing with them." To explain his point, ShadowLight flashed with brief light. "If ever the Three Spells met in combat with each other," he shook his head. "Untold catastrophe could be the only result. But if they meet in combat against a common enemy, like the hypothetical evil ruler you mentioned, we could overpower them with ease. It's one of the reasons the High King wields no Great Spell." ShadowLight ceased baying light and faded to its normal state. It flickered and melted, running down Rathon's head and neck where rematerialized as a black necklace with a white chain. "The only problem with this plan," Rathon said. "Is whether these Spells, as mighty as they are, will accept orders from any other than who they choose to bond with."

"What mean you?"

Rathon sighed. "Let me start from the beginning. There are Three Great Spells, each with a title that tells of their power. BloodFire: The Spell of Changing; for with it you can change anything to anything else. LunarMist: The Spell of Seeing; because with this spell nothing is hidden from your eyes. And ShadowLight: The Spell of Knowing; and it's named that because with this spell you can know all things, from future or from past. All three of these spells are sentient beings, as aware of their surroundings as you and I. The Spells are spirits of the natural world come together to form magic. Like Blood and Fire. They came together to form BloodFire. That's why we can separate them, because they are naturally not one. The problem is that they are spirits of such convoluting whirlwinds of power they have the power to refuse us; such as when we order them to separate from one of us when Eragon steps down. For at that time that Spell will be passed down to the next King or Queen." Rathon reached up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Its length was troublesome in the air. "No magic is like that. It may result differently than you expect, but it will always do something; the variable being whether that something is what you wanted or not. I'm not overly worried about the problem. The Spells left their former Masters without incident, even though I can hardly imagine living without ShadowLight by my side. The Spells are like our Dragons. They understand us. They obey our commands, so long as those commands do not directly violate our conscience." At her confused expression he uttered a strained laugh. "I could try explaining all of this until we arrive at Leonis Palace and it would hardly make more sense. Suffice it to say this: The Spells will obey our every command, provided that command agrees with what we know to be right. In other words, if we attempt to do something with our Spell that we know to be wrong, the Spell will not obey."

Naydel's face cleared. "I see." She looked down at ShadowLight, from where it hung on his neck. "Even after three years it still frightens me to even look at it."

Rathon smiled. "That's its nature by my command. I gave it this instruction long before we reunited. I instructed it to activate the Shadow whenever someone looks at it, and it causes fear and unease. However, if someone were to fight through that fear." He reached up to take the necklace off, whispered words to it, and held it out to her. "Take it," he said. Naydel looked down at it once more. She had never touched ShadowLight before, but looking at it made her feel like she was looking into a den of snakes with tarantula spiders crawling over them. Fear crawled down her spin as she looked into the shinny onyx that formed the gym, like the blackness of an abyss daring her to jump into it.

"It's okay," he said. "I can fly by my own will and strength. I can certainly protect you from a necklace." Then doubt filled her mind. Rathon had barely been able to support a shield made of ShadowLight, how could he possibly restrain it? Then another feeling entered her, challenging the last part of what he had said, and it hurt the worst. Why would he protect her over something he valued so highly? She had been nothing more than a pathetic serving woman in a tiny city. He was a Prince, a Rider, and a King over a third of the known world, Lord over thousands. How could he care for her?

Then she looked away from the necklace and into Rathon's eyes, and she knew him not to be selfish or uncaring, but kind and thoughtful, considerate and protective. Loving. And she reached out and took the necklace of fear into her hand. She clenched her muscles, expecting pain, but instead felt warmth and light and joy fill her body so quickly and wonderfully that it tingled in her fingertips. A light seemed to shine in darkest of places to her inner eye and she saw the world for what it had been meant to be. She saw the trees on the ground and the squirrels in the tree branches, and she rejoiced with their joy of life. She saw a herd of horses running across a valley and she soared with their freedom. She saw and heard the birds with their cheerful chirping and she sang with their delight of the sun. She saw the joy of the earth, and it was her joy as well. And in that one moment, she knew joy and nothing else. No evil existed in the world, only happiness and harmony. Then Rathon pulled the necklace away from her grip and she groped after it, yearning to see with true light once again. The lights in her mind's eye flickered and then went out.

Rathon tied the necklace around his neck again. "The Light of ShadowLight can prove to be a drug beyond addicting to any but it's Master. It's one of its defense mechanizes."

"How can something that seems so evil be so….jubilant?"

Rathon smiled and looked back at her. "My dear Naydel. Many times you will find yourself in dark places and you will be in pain and afraid. But you are there for a reason. And if you can weather that pain and that fear and walk past them, you will find unspeakable joy awaiting you when you find the end of the tunnel."

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><p>Rathon nudged Naydel's side. They floated above a great layer of clouds, over what he knew was Ilirea. "Naydel," he said, waking her. "We're here." She sat up and rubbed her left eye.<p>

"About time too. I don't know how much more of this flying I can take."

"We are going to have to fly through these clouds, however. I don't see a break in them for miles in any direction."

"Good. The blast of cold water should wake me up."

"I simply wanted you to be conscience when we went down, so you wouldn't be upset with me later." Naydel wrapped an arm around his waist and said, "Ready." Rathon tightened his grip on the straps tied to the saddle and said, _Go_, to Leonis. The red dragon uttered a brief growl of affirmation and dipped down into the clouds. As if they'd plummeted into the ocean watery vapor splashed over every inch of them. Leonis did not flap downward, but merely fell through the cloud. Rathon tightened his eyes closed so that the water could not get in his eyes. He felt Naydel bury her face in his back, what little good it did to protect her, for his shirt was already soaked. Then, after far longer than they had ever spent in a cloud, the broke out of it.

Leonis snarled. Rathon tried to wipe the water from his eyes, but with his damp cloths he only made it worse. _ShadowLight, rid me of this water_. ShadowLight liquidized and ran up his face, scooping up every drop of moisture and holding it inside itself until he told it to do otherwise. Rathon looked down, to see what Leonis had snarled at, and felt sheer unadulterated horror engulf him. The entire city, every building and structure, was ablaze with a black fire. Men who wore black shrouds over their faces rode horses up and down the streets, killing every man, woman and child who crossed their path. Leonis Palace was dotted with black specks that were men that climbed its sides like spiders. Naydel gasped behind.

"What is this?"

"The Black Chamber. Those evil dogs!"

"What do we do?"

"The only thing we can do. Leonis!" The ruby dragon roared plummeted to the grounds. His roar must have alerted the men on the ground, for arrows began buzzing up towards them. When Leonis hit the ground Rathon jumped off his back and said, "Stay with Leonis." _Protect her_, he told his dragon. Leonis jumped back into the air.

Fifty men rode out of an alleyway of a major road, spotted him and charged. Rathon raised his arm and sent a focused pulse of energy through his arm. His upper lip twitched as the havoc of his power unfolded. Along with it be invisible, it was unstoppable in the face of swords and shields. It hit them like a tsunami, overpower and devastating.

For hours upon hours upon hours Rathon fought. No man could stand before him and live, for he obliterated every one of them he saw who wore the black veil, but energy used as offensive magic took its toll faster then and faster as time went on and there seemed to be no end to the black shrouded men. _This is impossible_, he thought. _There are simply too many. Where did they all come from? _

Then Leonis touched his mind from above, and through that connection Naydel spoke to him. _Rathon, the preparations you had me set up before we left, in case this happened, seems to have been mostly successful. Many of the people escaped. The casualties, however, are…disastrous. We estimate that four thousand five hundred have died, or will in the next few hours due to wounds sustained._ She spoke gravely, speaking only the facts and not allowing emotions to color, though he could feel tears in her eyes.

Rathon looked about at his city. It was not majestic or beautiful as it once had been. It was black from soot, red from fire and blood, and dark from the black-cloaked bodies that littered it. Rathon's stomach clenched. _What have I done here_? Then overpowering exhaustion gripped him with steel talons. _Tell the people to retreat_, he told Naydel.

_But, Ilirea_…

_Is lost to us,_ he said. _I am too weak to defend her. All our warriors are either in the smaller cities throughout the kingdom…or dead. Tell the people to retreat to Dras'Leona, or Furnost for those more deathly wounded. _

_Rathon_, Naydel said hesitantly. _You did your best to save Ilirea. Look, your arms shack and you can barely stand. There's only so much you could do, and you've done it all. _

_My best_, he said. _Then my best was hardly sufficient_. He broke the mental contact with Leonis and said aloud, "ShadowLight, open the gateways of space and time and allow me to step through them in this time of need." He opened his palm and cut it with his knife, pooling the blood out onto the ground. "I offer you my blood as a token of this favor. Take it and fulfill this request." ShadowLight slithered down his leg and onto the ground, where it sucked up his blood and shimmered. The Spell grew, both in size and brightness, until it stood like a door of light. He stepped through and fell and a blast of white light blinded him, and he fell a foot or two over the marshes that festered some thirty miles outside of Ilirea. He looked out at his city. Dozens of smoke lines inched higher into the skies from the burning building, sending ash and soot in every direction.

He examined the sun's position in the afternoon sky. Three hours had passed since he stepped through the gateway. Leonis, silent as the night but for the wind he created, landed behind him. Naydel descended from his back and approached Rathon.

"Rathon," she said. "We've had word from the Elves and Dwarfs. Practically simultaneously with the attack on Ilirea, Farthen Dur and Ellesmera were attacked." For a long time, Rathon stood there, staring at Ilirea. Then Naydel said, "Rathon?"

"Why would they attack our main cities, Naydel? Why attack the enemy's strongest position?"

Naydel shrugged. "Hit the strongest point effectively and you do the most damage."

"But why the capitols?" He ran his hand down his face as ShadowLight returned to him, winding around his finger in a ring form. "I thought the Black Chamber would attack us soon, but I always thought they would attack somewhere smaller, like Bullridge or Teirm."

"You are not to blame. You had no choice to return to Vroengard."

Rathon's eyes darkened. "How did they know that? How did they know when I would be gone with Leonis?"

"It was a publicly made announcement when King Eragon crowned you, wasn't it?"

Rathon's mind whirled around the thoughts until he settled on a single, frightening idea. "If the Black Chamber knew that, then that means they have men inside of Vroengard."

"Why is that strange?"

"Anyone wishing to live on Doru Arabea must submit to a mind examination, ever since the rise of the Black Chamber."

"How did they get in then, if…" She stopped speaking as the same thought emanated in their minds. _Traitor_. Naydel shook her head. "But if that's true, then the Black Chamber has had over seven years to funnel men into Vroengard. And that would mean that they…" She paused as she suddenly understood Rathon's expression of fear. "That means that they could be planning to attack there as well."

Rathon turned and said, "We must warn them."

"Rathon, wait," she said. She now seemed confused. "Why would they attack such a powerful spot?"

Rathon glowered and extended an arm out to Ilirea. "That question has been answered by the lives of thousands. We must go, before more cities are attacked."

Naydel shook her head and then nodded, returning to Leonis' side. "It just doesn't make sense how the Black Chamber has so many men."

"Regardless how, we need to focus more on the fact that they do." When Naydel was situated in the saddle Rathon put his foot on Leonis' leg, preparing to jump up into the saddle, when a gray and white orb in the distance caught his attention. It buzzed around like a startled hornet, then seemed to spot Rathon, and more he felt, ShadowLight, and zipped down to them with blinding speed. Rathon opened his hand so the Spell could situate itself onto it. The spell flashed and the center of it cleared, to reveal an image, as if he were srcying. Brom stood with his arm out stretched, blood that was not his own staining his cloths and face. An expression of fear and anger adorned his face.

"Rathon," he said. His voice cracked as though he had not drank in days. "I cannot see you now, but I know LunarMist will find you, wherever you may be." He stopped to clutch at a wound in his right leg. "Ellesmera has been rent open by the siege of the Black Chamber. I know not how they achieved this, only that it was achieved. I have contacted King Eragon, and he bays us return to Vroengard with all possible haste, for he fears that the Black Chamber will strike there next. I share his concern. Fear not for Katelyn, she has been warned as well. Return to Vroengard as soon as LunarMist finds you. I fear a great battle crowns the horizon." Brom looked away from LunarMist and drew his sword once more, blocking an invisible attack and then stabbing forward. Drops of blood splattered him. "These Black Chamber members are ruthless, Rathon. Do not leave your people without protection." Then LunarMist began to tremble in his hand and it shrunk to the size of a small coin and then, faster than the eye could follow, jetted away into the sky.

"We must go," he said. "We must go now." A group of the people of Ilirea approached Leonis. Their cloths were burnt and tattered. Many were bleeding.

"What of us, Sire? Will you simply abandon us?"

Rathon held out his hand to them. "My people. I do not leave you willing, nor shall I forsake your safety. Your protection was charged to me, and I will not revert on the oath I took to protect you." As he spoke he drew ShadowLight to his hand. The spherical Spell hovered over it, Light and Dark circling together in harmony. "I require a weapon to fight with, but I do not require two." And he pulled his arms apart, splitting Shadow and Light. It caused him physical pain to separate them, but in the end he divided that which should have logically nothing to do with each other. He bayed Shadow descend to the man he trusted the most in the crowd. "Go to a place you think safe, set this Spell at the entrance to your camp, and your presence will be hidden to all eyes but for those of a God."

After a long moment the man said, "Farewell, Majesty. Fight for us, and we shall fight for you."

He looked down at them. He once looked at men as primitive specks of existence. But now his sole desire was to defend, even if doing so meant sacrificing his life. "Farewell, Sons and Daughters of Man."

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><p><strong>Well that was the shortest thing that could possibly be called a "return" for Rathon, wouldn't you say? I think so.<strong>

**For those still confused about Rathon's manipulation of energy, think Neji from Naruto for the energy pulse. For all else, just imagine a jedi using the force. **


	19. Echothain

**Mockingbirds: Well, no spoilers, but it's actually going to be the other way around. You can go ahead and read into that whatever you like. I'm sure ninety some present of my reading audience has already guessed most everything that's going to happen in the next few chapters. **

**Lone-grey-koas-wolf: Oh, you mean that new book that I've had thirty dollars set aside specifically to buy since I was 14 and ripped my hair out in frustrated anticipation because the author decided to take his sweet time in releasing it but that is coming out tomorrow and I have, like, four individual preorders on it in case some of the sites screw it up as well as a plan to get up at three in the morning to go get it from the nearest book store and not sleep for a week so I can read it? (That was long-winded) Yeah I know which book you're talking about, and I'm not sure that I will, or more accurately, I'm not sure I can. Because, if you think about the time scheme so far, Eragon's just about thirty five or so by this point, by my estimate, and I highly doubt CP will include a time frame that large. **

**Owltalon: Drum roll please! (DU DU DU DU DU DUDUDUDUDUDUDU DUUUUUUUUU suck at drum rolling DUUUUUUUUUUUUU) LATE UPDATE!**

**Little late on the update, I know, but if I wait approximately another twenty hours I won't update for another week. (For those of you who don't know, that time frame is when Inheritance will be released.)**

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><p>Rathon tightened his numb hand around Leonis' saddle as the ruby dragon aligned with the landing platform on the palace of Doru Arabea. <em>Three days now, I've been flying, <em>he thought as he worked his way down. Night shrouded the palace grounds, but he could see sentries, rider and ordinary men alike, posted every five feet along the palace wall. Each of them carried a crossbow in their hands and a sword on their hip. Forty riders and their dragons flew in the skies above, watching for any sign of an attack. A man horridly approached him, raising a hand out to him.

"ShadowLight, you made it. Please, come with me." Rathon took one last glance at the waters outside the island. They were black as tar and shifted endlessly, though dotted with small specks of light where stars were reflected. Then took him by the arm with urgency. "We must not linger," he said with rushed anger.

"You need not direct me which way to go. I have walked these grounds since the day I was old enough to support myself on my own legs. Tell me where I need to go and I shall go there."

The man shook his head and said, "The place we go to you will never find on your own."

Rathon raised an eyebrow. "Lead the way, then." Rathon followed him through the palace. Everywhere, there were signs of the preparations for war. Magic bound steel and iron around the handles of doors, invisible forces clasping together the smallest atoms in a gate to make harder and heavier. He saw no women or children as he paced and their lack of presence unsettled him. "Does the king expect an attack so much to evacuate the island?"

"That and more. You would not know it, but thirteen more cities around the continent have fallen under siege." At Rathon's exclamation of shock, the man continued, "Their power in numbers only seems to grow. The last message we got from the people of Teirm was cut-off and short. As they go from city to city, they only seem to gain more numbers, not loss them."

"Why hasn't Eragon dispatched the Riders?"

"He has. Three hundred to each race. They have instructions to fly over the land and stop the advance of the Black Chamber wherever it is found. Only a scant hundred or so remained here in case of an attack."

"I only saw forty. Where are the rest?"

"Patrolling the waters south and east of here." The man pulled open a door that led down to the lowest chambers of Vreongard's palace, where he had trained with Zodion, and irritation filled Rathon.

"Do you think me so a common fool that I would not know of this place?"

"I have never taken any man for a fool in all my days, and you are the least of them." He said, but he continued forward. Still steaming, Rathon followed him. They stopped at the bottom of the tunnel, where it broke off into two different directions. The left tunnel led to where Rathon had been trained by Zodion and the right to one of the ordinary landing platforms that opened out below the surface of Doru Arabea. Rathon was about to confront the man again when he paced to the wall that separated the two tunnels. He laid a hand on the cold stone wall and whispered soft words. A great crumbling sound echoed through the tunnel as a doorway opened in the wall. Rathon could see light from a lantern from inside the tunnel. "Here," the man said. "Do not tarry."

Rathon stepped through the door and the stones behind him rebuilt over the hole to form the wall once more. He walked down the hallway and winced as a lantern was thrust into view, nearly blinding him.

"Rathon," the voice of Katelyn said. The person holding the lantern stepped aside and allowed him past. Past the tunnels was a room, large enough to accommodate a dragon and in it was a circular table that stretched nearly the entire room. At the head of it sat Eragon, who looked tired and worn, with hundreds of papers and maps splayed out in a mind-numbing pile before him. Seated next to him on both sides was Brom and Katelyn, both looking as equally tired. Blood splotched around a cut on Katelyn's right check and she carried many more small injuries across her arms, torso and hands. Brom's tunic on his side was stained a deep black with dried blood and a nasty bruise colored his forehead. Around them were many of Eragon's councilors and advisors, most of who had been there when the three of them had been crowed.

"Welcome," Eragon said. "Please, have a seat."

"Where is mother," he asked Eragon.

"Seeing to it that if the Black Chamber attacks here they will be, at the very least, hindered."

Rathon sat in a chair three down from Katelyn, beside Zodion who looked him over with veiled worry. Eragon leaned forward and clasped his hands. "Now that we're all present, I feel the entire situation can be appropriately told. The Black Chamber has proven themselves to be ten times the size we originally estimated. At least fifty thousand black shrouded men have drawn their swords on our people in the past three days. Twelve cities that we know of have been captured. Of them, each of the capitols. Three more, we await word from. If we do not hear from them inside the next twenty four hours, we will have to draw our own conclusions."

One of advisers, who functioned as high noble, said, "It seems to me, your Highness, that your choice in the rulers of the races could have been a bit less biased. Just because they are your children does not warrant an appointment of leadership."

"Their rule has been without reproach," Aesire snapped. "Even if it was any fault of theirs, the point is moot. The Black Chamber does not operate like the Varden once did, attacking wherever an attack could be made. They sit like roaches under a rock and spawn like locusts."

"And what of our own defenses?" the high noble retorted. "What if the Black Chamber attacks here next?"

"We have the three great spells among us," Eragon said. "We should be able to wave off any attackers."

The High Noble wrinkled his eyes, making him look like a dog. "Blast these spells to damnation! What we need are men! Call on the other cities, my king. Match them in numbers and we will see how triumphant they are."

"And leave the whole of Alagaesia to be overturned?" Brom exclaimed. The unbridled power of LunarMist set itself down on the man as Brom sat forward, staring at him with what would have felt like cold fire. "I watched as my people, the elves, were rent in two by the swords of these men. Flying over the cities of this nation I saw the same act being done to man and dwarf alike and I was powerless to stop them. If LunarMist had been with me, and seeking out Rathon, I assure you I would have swept down on them like the Grim Reaper himself and saw to it they were punished for their crimes. That is what I have seen these past two days: children and men being gutted like fish. Are you such a witless coward that you would rather sacrifice the lives of tens of thousands so that you can protect your own hide? For that is what shall happen, I guarantee you. If you wish to hide like a rabbit your den and await your death, then by all means I will see that you are accommodated. But if you mean to take the lives of thousands of the innocent with you to hell, you will have to go through me and through me my dragon and my spirits; a combined force, which by the way, is great enough to rip apart this castle with ease." He sat back and examined the man. Sweat beaded his forehead as he looked at Brom, fear engrossed in his eyes.

The High Noble stood and shouted, "Demon, demon, I name you! That spell is as unholy as the devil himself!"

"Speak, talk, rant all you want," Brom said. "Those here are wise enough to accept help from whatever is willing to give it." Brom flicked his eyes at Rathon, such a short glance he hardly picked up on. _Light, _he said in his mind. _Give strength to these men's' will to fight. _Light, formed as a ring, began to pulsate, each vibrant wave of light sending out feelings of courage and confidence to those in the room, but for the High Noble. Brom's eyes widened as he sent LunarMist out like a cloud of strength, occupied with the word, "Sit," that echoed with power. The man sat, both from the command and the force of LunarMist. Rathon relaxed Light and Brom lowered LunarMist, but something felt amiss in the room. It was heavy and omnipresent, like the presence of one of the Great Spells when it was activated. One of the advisors was about to speak when Brom raised a hand, silencing him.

He looked across at Rathon, his face confused. "Do you feel that?"

He nodded. "What is it?"

They both looked at Katelyn, who was standing. "It's not BloodFire." The necklace she wore, BloodFire, was blank and dull, as it should be when it was dormant. Rathon and Brom both stood as well. Eragon looked between the three of them.

"What?" Rathon, Brom and Katelyn looked back at the door as they each felt a beat, slow and steady, but growing faster and harder. "What is it?" Eragon asked. When they didn't respond he said, "Arm yourselves," to the guards standing behind each of the chairs. The men each drew their swords and stood at the ready. The nobles around the table looked frightened now. Many of them were not the bravest of souls. Rathon flinched as the pounding intensified and then grew so fast and loud he was baffled the men around the table couldn't hear it. Then on the final blow the door caved in and a black cloud shot into the room and zipped around the table with lightning speed. It knocked each of the guards to the ground, killing them or knocking them senseless. The nobles and advisers began to panic, but many were frozen with fear. Aesire, Zodion and Hola all stood and watched the cloud spin.

The blackness lifted up into the air and spun so fast around the room that it seized being visible and then fell to the table, where splayed out like water. A figure became visible from the shadows. Katelyn and Brom called their spells forward, throwing them at the figure and trying to incapacitate it. Two arms shot out of the darkness and caught the magic spells like tossed rocks. The shadows stopped flowing and a man stood up on the table. His eyes were black as night, not even containing white, and evil seemed to come from him. His black hair ran down his back, almost reaching his waist. Black armor was clasped to his whole body, supporting a thin blade at his waist. A malicious smile crossed his face.

"Who are you?" Eragon said harshly.

The man raised his arms out and released the spells he held in his hands. Then he lowered them and said in a voice that trembled with evil, "Greetings, mighty kings and queens. My Master sends his tidings to thee. I am Echothain, messenger for the High Lord."

"What businesses have you here and how did you even get past our guards?"

Echothain raised his right hand, showing nails that looked more like claws. "I granted myself access."

"How did you know we were here?" Katelyn said. "No is supposed to know about this place."

"Your spells were only thing I needed to see this place. Also," he said. "I had an...aid inside these walls."

Eragon's eyes grew dark. "And who might that be?"

"All in good time, King."

LunarMist pulsed as Brom snapped his hand forward, attempting to knock Echothain back. Echothain's arm, writhed in blackness, flicked up lazily as he deflected the spell like a pebble tossed from a child.

"How is he able to do that?" Katelyn asked.

Echothain raised his hands and cupped them. "Allow me to show you, Daughter of Aesire, BloodFire." His eyes shimmered grey and blinding white and then the colors materialized out of the orifice and ran down his arms, forming into a blinding sphere of light in his open palms. At Rathon, Brom and Katelyn's startled exclamation, Echothain said, "You, at least, know what this is, Eragon Bromson. FutureStar, the fourth and final of the Great Spells."

"How can this be?" Brom asked. "There are only three." The shimmering colors merged back into Echothain's eyes.

"If that be true, LunarMist, explain that which you have just seen."

Brom remained silent, glowering at Echothain, when Eragon said, "I have a question for you, messenger. Two, to be accurate."

A humored smile flickered across Echothain's lips. "And I shall oblige these two."

"Quite some time ago, during the War of Galbatorix, I had nightmares of a man cloaked in blackness who claimed to foresee the future. And here you stand; a man writhed in the blackness of night. My question is: was that you?"

Echothain's smile turned mocking. "Oh, a fool you are indeed. My master told me such, but still I am dumbfounded by your blindness." He glanced down at Brom with the same twisted grin. "Let us merely say this: he stands before us now and it is far too late to stop the flow of time."

"And by that you mean?"

Echothain scoffed. "Did not you hear me? Let me say it again. All in good time. Ask your second question if it pleases you, for even now I become aware of your telepathic instructions to a guardsmen to send riders here in hopes of apprehending me. I would very much enjoy making myself scarce by that point." He sneered. "Had you forgotten FutureStar's power?"

"Who is your master?" Eragon asked, not giving into Echothain's ridicule.

"The Master of all, soon to be King of the Earth and Lord of the Skies."

"What is his name?"

At the sound of dragon's wings flapping into the landing platform just outside, Echothain raised his arms and blackness enclosed him, covering everything but his face. "I apologize, King. You were promised the answers to two questions and not a third. My master extends an offer to you to surrender. Humbly, I advise you to accept it. Save the lives of every one of your riders and the world you spent almost your whole life building, for a force too strong for you to withstand marches to destroy you." Echothain's body disappeared as the blackness lifted from the table and shot out of the room and out the castle, but his voice remained for a lingering moment, whispering words into the minds of every person on Doru Arabea.

_A message from the Master. You were warned, but you did not listen. You were cautioned, but you would not take heed. Now, as I said twenty five years ago, the end has come. You chose the wrong road. You did not divert from the path of destruction and now destruction is upon you. Take up your sword and see how mortal man truly is, or accept this final warning to change fate. No one will be harmed if you surrender, but all shall lay dead by week's end time if you resist us._

_As I said, twenty five years ago_,_ from the Shadow, came forth Light. From the Blood, there came Fire. And from the Moon, sprung forth Mist. And the time has finally arrived. I shall send your own creation to destroy you._

* * *

><p><strong>Is anyone else getting the feeling that Brom is not at all like is namesake? Or that something really funky is going down with his overall character? Or that, I don't know, Christopher Paolinl more or less slapped us in the face with the title to the fourth book. I mean, seriously? Inheritance? I don't care about it really, I'm just glad the book is finally coming out, but….really? <strong>

**See, if you were a true fan of this series, you'd have noticed that I misspelled Paolini in the last paragraph. Yeah, that was on purpose. **


	20. Farewell

To my dear readers

It saddens me greatly to write this message to all of you. Many of you may have noticed that as of late my updates to the story have become increasingly sporadic. This has been a direct result of my school and work schedule. I'll be going to college next year so I've been working ungodly hours to save up money. Next week I'm going to start some unfriendly hardcore practices for the ACT's and SAT'S, administered to me in a predicted tortures environment at the hands of my beloved brother Erik. (Love you bro, I know you have only my best interests at heart; back on topic)

This, sadly, marks the point when I will have such little time to work on the stories that they will return to being uninspired messes of words and repeating sexual situations. I don't want this to happen, for many reasons; prime most among them being I don't want to burn your eyes out with disgusting dialogue.

At the start of next month my life will begin revolving around college; as it almost invariably must. And so I regret to say that this is my last week in FanFiction. I've been here for going on three years and in that span I've created five very miserable stories and two of passable quality. It burdens my heart having to leave before those two, and the ones to come, are completed.

However; fear not, for with any luck they will be finished with ideas that are better than my own. Alice Prince; the first person to review my stories and the editor of BloodFire and LunarMist has agreed to carry on in my place. Let me assure you these stories are in the best of hands. To say that she has saved me from hundreds of embarrassing errors in past chapters would be an inhuman understatement. I don't know if she will continue the stories current path or even the current story in general; but I am extremely confident that whatever road she chooses to travel that it will be one that is grand and one that all of you can enjoy. I have given her permission to do what she likes with Tesst's account. I'm sure that what she does or does not do with it will be satisfying to everyone.

And now, I'd like to close the book by thanking a few of my closest readers.

Owltalon: Thank you for your great reviews. It has been an honor writing your name down in the reviews every chapter.

Lone-grey-koas-wolf: Thank you for your good editing, and for your helpful opinions on how long a good chapter should be. :)

Antclift: As a fellow outdoor lover with hobbies that mirror my own, your name came to mind as I was writing this. (PS. Thanks for the happy birthday wish)

Alice Prince: I owe you far more than can be given in a few sentences. Your seamless betaing has saved me more times than I can count and your good ideas inspired many of the finer aspects of ShadowLight, LunarMist, and BloodFire. Without you I wouldn't have half the readers I do now.

To all my FanFiction fans: Thank you for your support. And to those who are less fans of my creations, thank you also. I'm a religious believer in the concept that stinging words of honest criticism is better than the empty words of blank praise.

And lastly, and more as a lifelong childhood friend than a reader, I want to thank Kalen Borns. You would know him more by his nickname and the character he inspired, Calibor. I did my utmost to do your name credit by the name Lord of Dragons, you World of Warcraft nerd. I hope that you rest in the deepest peace possible, lifelong best friend.

And I guess that's it. I wish you the best of luck, Alice Prince, in all the endeavourers you face.

Farewell; FanFiction. I have enjoyed my time with you as I hope you have enjoyed your time with me. And as the movie The Sound of Music put it: Goodbye.


	21. I'M BACK!

So, as many of you may or may not know, I have recently enrolled in the money sucking vacuum some of you call "college." Well, my first go at it is almost done, all I have left are finals, and I will be enrolled next year as well.

Many of you also know that this caused me to cease production of LunarMist. However, because I was in need of a sudden 2 credits to pass next year, I signed up for a writing workshop class, and was there informed by my very quirky teacher (only word I have for her) that I could earn credit for LunarMist.

So, that having been said I am pleased to say, **I AM BACK!** Be forewarned, because I still have other things going on in my summer I won't be the ridiculous update machine I used to be. So I will give great importance to the story's production and dishing it out to you all, but don't be surprised if some time passes between each update. It won't be like, a month, but a week or two may separate the times I'm able to work on it.

:) Happy to be back in your loving arms, FanFiction. The next chapter is hopefully in the beta pipes as I write this. I do hope it is to all of your satisfaction.


	22. To Arms!

The sounds of Riders' feet running towards the meeting chamber echoed outside. Before they arrived, the nobles around them began moving and acting again. Eragon plopped down in his throne, appearing distressed. Brom wore the same face as his father as he said, "What do we do?"

Aesire put his knuckles on the table, looking at each of them in turn. "You must fight Echothain. When the Three Spells joins hands in battle, no one can stand before them, even if it is another Spell."

"What if he has more skills hidden away? I haven't a clue how one might come and go into this room as he did. He seemed to be made of shadows." Brom responded.

"What would you have us do then?" Eragon asked.

Brom opened his mouth to reply when the Riders outside came thundering in, brandishing their swords.

"We came as quickly as we could," one said.

"Yes," Eragon said. "The danger has passed and…"

"We come barring news, your Highness," another said.

Eragon's brows drew near to one another. "Then convey it."

The Rider nodded and said, "Even as we speak, our riders that guard the seas south of here tell of us of a massive fleet of war ships sailing in this direction. We could not be sure, it was dark and there were many, but they believe the number to be around seven hundred vessels."

Eragon swore. Aesire looked across at him. "That's enough to carry a good ten thousand."

"I know how many it's capable of transporting," Eragon snapped.

"I believe we've had this conversation before," Aesire snapped. "I am on your side, so there is no need to accost me thusly." Hola placed a hand on his shoulder. He folded his hands and closed his eyes. The posture Rathon recognized for the pose Aesire assumed when he was backed into a corner in any of the multitude of strategy games he played. "At their current pace," he said to the rider, "what time will they reach us?"

"Perhaps four hours after midnight. If I may ask, my Lord, why do you ask?"

Aesire gestured."Come," he said. The lot of them stood and followed him, though many did so reluctantly. He led them through the twisting corridors of the palace for well over five minutes. Some of the nobles began to grumble among themselves and Zodion seemed less than pleased. Then they stopped on a balcony overlooking the city. Aesire pointed up to the moon, which was full and white, slightly larger than usual."It has been proven in days gone by that the tides of the sea are controlled by the moon. Its gravitational pull causes the water to come closer to shore or farther. When the ships arrive, high tide will soon be afoot." One of the nobles muttered something about a "daft fool we have as a king to listen to this man"before Aesire finished.

"How is this helpful, Aesire?" Eragon asked."So the people on the ships will be a little off balance. It's unlikely we can shot arrows at them either, since they'll probably have wards."

Aesire smiled that smile he always made when his point was obvious, but the recipient could not understand it. "Aye, the people likely will. But what about the parts of the ships that are normally not underwater?" Eragon frowned.

"Would you stop beating around the bush and get to your point?"

"As you wish," Aesire said. "Ships, at least those meant for war, have rather small holes that line either side. Their purpose is to allow water to run back out into the ocean should it get into the ship. You could think of them as windows, if they were not the size of a coin. Now then, if those small holes were suddenly made bigger, and the water that they are usually safe from are suddenly submerging them, it will not be long before the ship is filled with water and is borne down to the ocean floor."

Zodion glowered at Aesire. "And yet what would stop the men from simply blocking these holes up?"

"They'll be too busy with the electricity,"Aesire said fiendishly.

A look of utter confusion ran over Zodion's face. "What? What are you talking about you foggy minded…"

Brom, whose eyes had suddenly grown perceptive, barked, "Kveykva!" There was a faint crackling sound and then forty feet away, beneath a stone landing platform for dragons, twenty five bolts of lightning shot out from the wall and collided with the sea. A blinding flash erupted from them as they made contact and lines of electricity shot in every direction. Rathon remembered the sight from six years ago, when Brom had made the twenty-five dragon heads on the palace wall during an assignment. He had not realized the spell on them was still in place.

One of the nobles yelped in surprise. "What devilry are you concocting now?"

"Nothing more than a child's homework assignment," Brom said.

Zodion stepped to the side of the palace and looked over at the side. "To what material were the ships constructed of?"

"Wood, I would imagine," the young Rider responded.

Zodion glared at him. "Obvious answers are indicative of an inferior intellect, incapable of sustaining coherent lines of reason. I'm asking you what kind of wood."

"What difference does it make?"

"None whatsoever. Except if you take into account if they are made of yew, they will light as easily as the water they float upon."

Aesire looked off into the distance. "We're not trying to light them on fire. Yew is heavy, hard and durable. The latter of two of those would make an excellent boat, however the first presents the issue. You can't have heavy wood being burdened by heavy people, being burdened with a heavy load and expect it to float with water pouring into it. It will work in our favor, therefore, if they are made of such fire-resistant wood."

"Merely a precaution, brother." His eyes fell on Rathon, Katelyn and Brom. "And what role will these three play?"

"We have a man that claims, and has proven to the effect of, that he too wields a Great Spell. FutureStar; the spell made, honed and perfected by Galbatorix himself. He must be taken out, immediately. Eragon, what do you want of them?"

"They fight in the skies above, for as long as it seems right to do so. Have all the Riders draw back to Vroengard. They will aid in our defense."

"As you wish, Sire."

* * *

><p>A line of sweet ran down Rathon's head as he clasped the vambraces to his arms. <em>I've never fought a real battle before. Or at least that I had time to think about it.<em>

"Nervous?"Brom said from behind him.

"A little. I've never really fought a large scale battle before. What makes it worse is that I have only half the weapon I once did."

Rathon chocked as Brom gripped his chest plate from behind and tightened the strings with a hard yank."These need to be tight," he said. "Or else it will shift and sway in battle. And with how much it weighs it might very well turn into your undoing, throwing you off balance like you were drunk." He sat back down and said, "You wield a weapon no mere man can possess. Which Spirit did you give to your people?"

"Shadow," he said.

"Poor choice for this."

"I didn't know that Vroengard was going to be attacked. And besides, they can use its darker capabilities much more than I can now."

"True enough."

They sat in silence for awhile until Katelyn knocked on the door. She was dressed in battle armor, a sword slung to her waist. "Come," she said.

Rathon and Brom followed her up to the battlements and looked out over the sea. Hundreds of ships lined the ocean. Each of them was as black as the night. At their head sailed one in particular, the man named Echothain riding on its tip, a black shroud of clouds cloaking him and flying back in raven strands behind him.

On the opposing side, Vroengard was armed with archers, dragons and Riders in the hundreds, and the Three Great Spells. Thousands of men, each of them wearing blue and white armor, stood at the ready. Some were archers, some manned the war machines, but all wore a sword at the waist.

Echothain raised a hand and the ships behind him slowed to a halt. "I deduce," he said, his voice echoing across the waters, "that by your armaments, you have made your choice to stand your ground and fight."

"You deduce correctly," Eragon said. "Break off now and spare yourselves. We outnumber you, in men and power."

"Maybe, but you would be a fool to not think of our past success. Have not we proven our skill to you in these past hours? Thousands lay dead in our wake!"

"They were not as guarded as we."

"So you use cowardice to excuse arrogance? Truly deplorable."

"What are you?"Eragon asked. "Your shape is that of a man, but the feeling of you is that of a Shade!"

"Shade perhaps I be, your Highness. What does it matter what a tool is called, so long as it can fulfill its function?" He waved his hand. "I tire, and my master's orders are clear. All who do not surrender are to die." He raised a hand over his head. "Attack."

* * *

><p>Rathon clutched at Leonis' saddle as he dove through the clouds. The red dragon pulled up sharply, clipping the water with his left wing and rammed into one of the ships. Opening his maw the dragon let loose a torrent of fire onto the craft, aiming the barrage at the groups of people on board. His hind legs clawed at the lower portions of the vessel, ripping the wood to bits. Meanwhile, Rathon hacked and slashed at the men who approached, trying to buy Leonis time. In the end, and when the entirety of the crew was focusing their efforts on them, he said <em>Pull back. I can't hold them.<em> Leonis growled and jumped away from the boat. Arrows, black as the moonless night, went singing past them as they flew away. A burst of electricity shot through the waves and shrieks of man and wood alike came forth as ships that dotted the water either sank or burst into fire.

The fight had ensued moments after Echothain had made his proclamation. It had raged for more than two hours since. The dragons and their Riders would swoop down and attack ships. Then, when further attack ceased being worth it, they would flee back and Brom would ignite the seas with lightning. To Rathon's grinding frustration, the method had succeeded in sinking, at best, forty ships. He looked down at the federal flagship, where stood the black cloaked demon named Echothain. His eyes were fixed upon the palace. Malevolency poured from him as water would from a fountain.

A thought went surging over the battlefield. It carried the voice of Aesire. _Return_, he said. _We battle them upon the island, where our Riders will be of more use to us_.

_Master, are you sure that is wise?_

_There are many boats. They will not be able to land all at once. Reap what havoc you can on your way in. Then, when you are able to fight on your own two feet, battle your way down to the seas until all are dead. Your dragons are to proceed harrying them from above. _

_Typical that they would not want us as Dragon and Rider!_ Leonis said.

_Peace_, Rathon replied. _Your advantage lies in the skies and mine on the ground. _

_Yet what force can stop the two of us together_, Leonis said as he dipped down to the palace. Rathon unbuckled himself during the dive, holding on as tightly as he could and then leaping off when Leonis leveled out. He ducked down to avoid Leonis' flapping wings. _I go to fight!_ His dragon called.

_Good winds to you_, Rathon said as he flew away. He drew his sword and spun around to counter the blow coming down to him from on high. A man dressed in the black shroud of the Chamber had delivered the blow. The man back stepped. "I suppose ships have already landed," Rathon said. He spun his sword in a circle, his arm itching to attack. He raised his arms out to both his sides. "Come on, then! I'm not going to wait for your attack all day!"

* * *

><p>Echothain sat in a chair atop the largest ship in his armada, his fingers splayed together as he looked out at the palace where his men were landing and fighting the men of Vroengard.<p>

"And then we shall land our ships as swiftly as we can so that these men might be overrun."

"Tell the men to get to the island as quickly as possible. Destroying other ships, jumping from ship to ship or growing wings and flying, I care not. Get them in there to fight as fast as you can."

Echothain rested his head in his left hand. "Capture the wielders of the Three Great Spells alive. Everyone else; every man, every woman, every child: slaughter. We take no prisoners save those three."

His second general began to speak again when Echothain raised his hand. The general stopped and closed his mouth. Echothain blinked and when he opened his eyes once more, he stood before him. The man dressed in white, pure as the fresh snow. Their two presences could be no more opposite. A grin of derision crossed Echothain's lips. "Kayalder," he said."How nice of you to join us." His counterpart, the man, if man he could be named, stood with white clothes that reflected the light and illuminated him. Not a speck of dust or dirt clung to his form. "Might I inquire as to why you now choose to show your face?"

"I come to fulfill the future as it has been designed."

"You know fate as I do. You were the first to hold ShadowLight, those millenniums ago. With it you saw what is to come, and so have I. Regardless what you do to stop it, it makes no difference."

"I mean not to stop it, as I know it is destined. No, I mean to do is alter it."

"Even that task is now impossible, Kayalder. At the end of this battle, his fate will be sealed away, locked into one path that will not be changed."

Kayalder approached him and his generals raised their weapons, but Echothain raised his hand, stopping them. "You, I and Eragon were the first to hold the Great Spells. It was us who discovered them, mastered them, and then came to the realization that they were too powerful for any man who is not a God to wield. That choice we made has been overturned, Echothain. The Spells have awoken and chosen their wielders, those they will serve. Eragon sacrificed his life to the Riders and you and were left with them."

"May I ask why I'm being treated to a history lesson? I remember all of this Kayalder."

"You know the Spells' power. You know you will not win today. You know that before the sun sets one of them will darken, but you do not know which one. The eyes of BloodFire are not that keen."

"Perhaps not," Echothain said. "I know it is our fate to lose today." He crossed one leg over the other and looked out at the battle. "I place my bet on Brom, however. The pent up rage that has been building inside of him; what with Katelyn and Rylar, must come to a head at some point." He cast a gaze up at Kayalder. "What of it, Calibor?" The man scowled. "You know which one it will be. And if you don't think it will be Brom, answer me this: Why was he the only one you did not appear to during the past five years? You came to Rathon and Katelyn, but not to him. Why the distinction?" He looked back at the battle. "I know we will lose today. My force may be mighty, but it is a frightened deer compared to those Spells' wild nature." Kayalder left leg popped and sparked and it began to fade away. It crawled up his leg, inch by inch eating him away. "Today may hold failure for us; but you and I both know that it is a victory for him."

Kayalder other leg began the same process, as he physically transported his entire body from one place to another with nothing more than his will. It was a talent that could not be taught. "Victory of the moment is all he will acquire. Truly I say to you, old brother, his victory shall be fleeting as the dew of the morning grass."

A malicious leer spread on Echothain's lips. "True, Calibor. But what if the dawn never comes?"Kayalder, Calibor, harnesser and first wielder of ShadowLight, Lord of Dragons, disappeared as softly as he had come. Echothain scoffed.

"Who was that, Lord?" One of his generals asked.

"My brother of ages long gone by. He, I, and a…friend found the Three Great Spells. His handwriting is in the Book of ShadowLight." He chuckled for a moment. "Ironic, is it not? The man who quoted Eragon with the words: 'Be wary if you fight the monsters of the dark, lest you become one of them. To whoever wields this awesome powers will the dark monsters attempt to corrupt and control, and if care is not taken, eventually they shall succeed.' Eragon found LunarMist and unlocked its true potential, finding it so powerful that he began to be drawn into what he called 'evil ways.' Thus that quote. And now, LunarMist will be drawn in once more."

"Did not he say that it could be any one of them?"

"He did, but he is as trustable as I am." He looked up at his first general. "Would you close your eyes and sleep if I were beside your bed? Do be honest."

The man swallowed. "I doubt I would, Sir."

"And there you have my point. LunarMist, I feel, is more likely than the other two. Built up anger and resentment at his dearly beloved," he said the words mockingly. "And not anger born of rejection. No, far worse."

"What mean you, Sir?" One of the underlings standing behind him asked.

"Katelyn," he said. "The one, who holds my old Spell, is the young woman who has attracted Brom's eye. And the part that boils Brom's blood above all else," he said, looking back at them with a twisted grin. "Is that she has eyes for Rathon, Brom's younger brother."

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><p><strong>:) Man it feels good to be back. <strong>


	23. Revelation of Consequence

**And now, for that chapter that had to happen. **

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><p>Rathon beat the sword aside and elbowed it's wielder in the face. He ducked as one of the man's fellows swung for his neck. Shifting his weight onto his left hand, he kicked the man's feet out from under him. Standing, he raised his sword and did what had to be done. <em>Forgive me, <em>he thought. Killing was not something he enjoyed, but it was something he acknowledged as needed right then. _Kill or be killed, and this case, friend, you choose an opponent outside your ability to master._

He looked around for more of the Black Chamber, but saw none. He ran to the edge of the palace wall and looked down. He saw a great number of men, all of them shrouded in black, working their way up the cove to attack the men of Vroengard.

_They look relatively contained_,he thought. _Now it's just a matter of either breaking their will or breaking their heads. _A loud shout erupted from behind him. Rathon spun around as quickly as he could. Steely metal sliced through his right arm. Before the pain could overwhelm him, he opened his left palm, sent a burst of energy through his arm, and obliterated the black shrouded man who stood behind him. He clutched at the wound and thought, _That's a problem. _He was about to utter a command to heal the wound, when he stopped himself. He thought back to the night Ilirea had been attacked, how he had wasted nearly all his energy on completely obliterating all men who stood before him. "Save your energy," he said. "You aren't like Zodion, with an endless pool of energy attached to your right hand."Rathon swallowed and began to trot to the spiral staircase that would take him to the healers. He was grateful there were no Chamber members to bother him.

The sound of clashing metal sounded from ahead, followed by a terrified scream. Putting on a burst of speed, he rounded a corner and stopped in shock. Two soldiers of the Black Chamber lay dead on the floor of the small junction. A third was crawling away, blood pooling from the stump that had once been his arm. A look of unadulterated terror shimmered in his eyes as he pleaded with some invisible deity to spare him. Nayter stood above the two bodies, her tail lashing, her ears held back, and most astonishing of all, her teeth sharpened into fangs that glittered with blood. She looked, in almost all mannerisms, like a feral wolf, but for her human body. Her eyes flashed to the third soldier, and he saw that her eyes had turned a bloody red. She leapt after him, clearing the space that separated them in one bound and landing on top of him. The man cringed in fear. Nayter raised her hand and he saw that her fingernails were sharp as claws. Then she went down on the man with her fangs and Rathon had to look away.

It shocked him that the person that he had known from childhood as a sweet young girl that was born of a man and werecat could be such a merciless killer. Nayter rose and he looked back, seeing blood drops fall from her mouth. She licked her lips and said, "May you rot for all eternity in the lowest depths of hell, you inbred scum." Her voice was harsh and angry, unspeakably different from her ordinary voice. She turned and saw Rathon. She flinched back and closed one eye as her eyes returned to their ordinary blue. She blinked for a moment, then looked at Rathon, then down at the solders, and finally to her own hands. And fear grew in her eyes. She backed up against the wall, staring at her hands.

"I…I…I didn't mean…I wasn't." She put her hands to her face, then pulled them back as she saw the blood that was not her own. "No," she said, looking up at Rathon. Tears began to flow down her face. "Not you. Anyone but you." She closed her eyes and ducked her head. Rathon began to move towards her. Right before he put his hand on her shoulder her head snapped up. Her eyes had returned to their feral red. She flicked his hand away. "Do not touch me." She stood. "There is fighting to be done here. Save your sympathy for someone who cares for it." She turned and strode away. Rathon raised a hand out to her, but a hand was placed on his head and he turned sharply to face an opponent, but saw Zodion standing behind him. "Master," he said. A look of sorrow compassion, something he had never seen on Zodion's face, adorned his eye.

"She is, quite possibly, the most unlucky person ever to be born," he said.

"Why?" he asked, watching her go.

"Because of her mother and her father. Though she is good in heart, intention, and disposition, another side compels her. That of a wolf," he said in a low, angered tone. "The blood thirsty battle rage of a starved wolf drives her, compels her actions every day. Normally, she is able to control it and stay as the girl we known. But," he said, clenching his fist, "because of Hola, that girl is cursed to have two identities locked in an unending battle inside of her for supremacy. Her nature as a human and her nature as a wolf. What you just saw, Rathon, was her wolf side winning." He loosened his hand and said, "But." His eyes grew grave. "This was different."

"How so?"

"Her wolf side won, because she made no effort to stop it. To the contrary, she gave it control over herself."

"Why?" He asked, dumbfounded as to why she would do that.

Zodion's steady gaze drifted from his niece to Rathon. "It was easier. She could not stand to have your opinion of her lowered to that of the common beast she believes herself to be. Simply succumbing to urging of her blood was easier for her than having to cope with your eyes upon her; having to deal with believing you thought her to be the blood thirsty murderer she thinks you saw when you looked at her." Zodion looked down at the ground and shook his head. "When that happened, it was too much for her to bear." He looked back to Rathon. "Can you imagine having two sides of yourself, opposite in every way, constantly battling inside of you for control?"

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><p>Katelyn, her hair spinning out behind her, twisted her arm up and around herself, giving her sword just enough momentum to knock the solder's blow aside. Using the force of her opponent's attack to stop her sword, she stabbed forward, impaling him in the chest. As she stepped forward to pull her sword back, she said, "Rest well, son of man."<p>

It surprised her how difficult it was to kill any of the Black Chamber. She hated them with every part of her existence, for both the atrocities they had committed and the sheer fundamentals that were absolutely opposite to her own. But she still found it difficult to kill heedlessly, without regard to the character of the man she was killing. For all she knew the men she stabbed were good men, that led normal lives and had been forced into service. Even so, she killed.

The solders did not seem strategically coordinated, since they came in ones and twos when they could have easily come in larger groups. _It's almost as though their leader doesn't care about the success of this attack._

Shouting, three solders charged her. She caught the downward slash of one of them with the edge of her sword, dodged the second one and gutted the third. By that time, the first soldier was upon her again. He spun his broadsword through the air at her head. She ducked, and, gritting her teeth, slashed off the man's leg. The last soldier was smarter. He back stepped, making sure he had enough room to swing his rapier and waited for her to attack him. She attacked and he side stepped. Again and again they danced around the courtyard, Katelyn attempting to stab the man and the man sidestepping her attacks.

Katelyn, after attempting a downward thrust, staggered forward. The man took his chance and struck. She dodged as quickly as she could, but could not stop him entirely. The rapier struck the chain that kept BloodFire, in the form of a necklace, around her neck. She reached for it, desperate, but the man attacked again. She blinked rapidly, as her connection to BloodFire faded for the first time in five years. The sharp metal sliced through the soft leather of the armor protecting her legs. She went back as quickly as she could. The man flicked his rapier, cleaning it of blood, and went to attack again. As his sword came down on her, she thought of Rathon, and shot out her arm and forced a burst of her energy out her arm. It was a desperate defense, one she was not familiar with.

The man went flying back into the distance, falling into the ocean. Katelyn dropped to one knee as the depletion of her energy overwhelmed her. When once she was tired and weary from fighting, she now tittered on the edge of death. As her breath shortened and the energy still lowered, she grouped at BloodFire, willing for its saving strength, but it lay twenty feet away.

She clutched at her heart, her vision turning black and red. She went down on her hands and knees, gasping for air. Just as she was convinced she was about to enter the void, a hand was placed on her shoulder and energy flowed into her, paying the price of her energy manipulation for her. When the cost of her energy manipulation had been satisfied, energy continued to flow into her, restoring her strength to what it once was. She gasped, as her heart continued to beat at its normal pace.

She looked up and her mouth sagged. "Rylar," she said. The woman was dressed in white and blue and held a jagged sword, beaten in with scraps and dents from fighting. "How did you get that much energy?" Rylar laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Stay. I restored strength to your muscles and bones, but it would be good if you stayed still for a moment and allow your body time to catch up." Katelyn nodded and sat. "As for my energy…" She twisted her sword around. On the hilt was a small diamond. "Storing energy in gems is not a tactic unknown to Brom." Katelyn sighed and looked up at the sky. Ravens, crows and death birds flew the skies above, cawing at the battle below. Then she thought of Rathon, and a twinge went through her. _I hope he's alright. I at least have both my spells at my disposal. _Something jingly slid across the floor in front of her. She looked down from the skies and saw Rylar bent over, picking up BloodFire. She pushed herself up, but with the wound in her leg she found her legs suddenly too weak to support her. All the energy Rylar had given her seemed to slip from her grasp, and she sagged against the wall in weariness. As Rylar turned around, Katelyn used the ledge she sat by to force herself up.

Rylar looked down at the necklace, tossing it up in the air as if to test its weight. "The base of all magic," she said. "Contained in such a small trinket. Without this spell, the entire realm of magic would collapse."

"Rylar," she said. BloodFire had the power, like both the others, to addict those who held them with their might, as a final defense mechanism. Their wielders were the only ones exempt from that influence. "Give that back to me. You aren't in your right mind." She wanted to tell BloodFire to stop, but she could not without being able to speak to it.

Rylar's eyes stopped hovering on BloodFire and locked with Katelyn's. "No, Katelyn. I am perfectly in my right mind."

"You're not," she said. "BloodFire…"

Rylar closed her eyes and said, "Uses a power to attract the attention and desire of those who touch it; excluding those who command them. I am completely aware." As Katelyn's energy inched out of her, she sagged lower and lower on the wall. Rylar began to toss the necklace that would give her strength back to her into the air again. "I am aware of many things, many more than you, in fact. For instance, I feel no desire for this necklace or the spirits it contains. And do you know why that is?" She caught the necklace and let it slide down until its gem swung back and forth. "Because the man Echothain, the man who found and harnessed BloodFire, gave it that final defense and granted me leave of it."

Katelyn's blood turned to ice. She tightened her eyes and clenched her fists. "Of course."

Rylar's smile was as condescending as Katelyn had ever seen. She opened her mouth and laughed at her. "Yes, you bumbling idiot! Finally you see the answer that has been sitting under your nose for years! Everything was of his design. Me being in Bullridge during Rathon's training. We had to trick that fat baboon into thinking I was his daughter. The gradual appearance of men in the Black Chamber. There has not been a single man joined the Black Chamber in years. All of them were Galbatorix's mind slaves from decades ago!" She placed a hand on the side of her face, laughing so hard she seemed insane. "And then, me going to Ellesmera and offering myself as Brom's Second Hand! Honestly, I didn't expect him to accept. But when he did! Circumventing the Great Forest was almost laughably easy! You would be amazed how much easier it is to gather intelligence of an enemy army when you are second in command to a third of it!"

"You are of the Black Chamber?" Katelyn said, anger growing inside of her.

"Yes, you imbecile," she said, laughing even harder. "I can't comprehend why Rathon didn't understand when we were in Bullridge and I said, 'He said you wouldn't be here.'" She laughed for another few seconds and then said, "It was a good thing Echothain was guarding my mind for me, otherwise our whole operation would have been undermined."

Katelyn slipped a hand under her leg, reaching down to the knife she kept strapped to her leg. She took a breath, gathered what energy she had left, then surged forward, throwing the knife as hard as she could at the woman who stood before her. Rylar continued laughing as the missile flew to its target. Just as it was about to impale her, her arm snapped up, with speed greater than an elf's, and caught the knife in the middle of the air.

Her laughing ceased she straightened and drew her own dagger. "Enough of the antics, Rylar. I don't want to have to step into your body again. Do your job, or I will do it for you." Rylar closed her eyes for a split second, then opened them and her face hardened. "As you wish," she said. Katelyn staggered up, her leg sending her copious amounts of pain. "I do apologize for this, Katelyn. I honestly did like you when we first met. However, a higher calling shouts to me, and I cannot help but answer. This dagger is imbued with Black Magic. The wound it creates cannot be healed by mortal hands, nor by any magic anyone who is not a God could be able to conjure. It will be a swift death for you. Consider it an act of kindness, for the ability to torture you to death is well within his means." She raised the dagger, BloodFire inside her grip, and approached her.

_I can't fight, _she thought. She looked around wildly and saw a passageway twenty feet to her right. Mustering her fortitude, she ran to it as swiftly as she could. Each impact of her leg and the ground sent a thousand sensory overloads to her to stop. She pushed on, gritting her teeth against the pain. She yelped as her legs were pulled out from under her.

She turned around and saw Rylar, an evil gleam in her eye, holding out her arm to Katelyn. BloodFire's gem was between her two first fingers, and it pulsated with red light. "I truly dislike having to repeat myself," she said. "But as it is, the first wielder of BloodFire must do what you cannot." A sneer of derision came onto her face as she looked down on Katelyn. "_I _discovered BloodFire. _I _harnessed it. _I _sealed it away. Do you really believe that I could not command it even while it names you master?"

Katelyn raised an arm to pull herself up, but a leg that felt like a boulder was placed on her. She looked up at Rylar. "One knife to kill," she said, raising her own dagger. "One knife to make it look as though you fought back." She raised Katelyn's knife which she had thrown. "No will suspect that you were killed by this miserable whore. No one knows she carries this dagger on her. She will kill you, and no one will be the wiser."

Rylar raised the dagger over her head. Katelyn closed her eyes and a soft voice spoke in her ear. She knew it, distant but familiar.

_Fear not, for the Lord of Dragons watches over you, _it said. _Your life is in better hands than any in the land. Be at peace for now, until your sword and your name as the True Wielder of BloodFire are needed once more. _And she was at peace.

The dagger fell.

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><p><strong>*gasp* What? Rylar? I did not see that one coming! Do please excuse the generic expectation of it. <strong>


	24. The Day it All Began

**Anon: No clue who you are, given that you are anonymous, but, here you go. **

**Jeffers: Indeed, I am going to update. But, by the strength of the fact that you are reading this right now, you already knew that. As for the name of the next book it's a relatively easily deduced point, considering the names of the last two and a major riding contributor to the storyline. I would be embarrassed if I had yet to let on what the third book would be entitled. **

**Spaarx: :) Thank you. I wanted to take my time on that one, since these few chapters are the ones I've been envisioning for about a year. As for the lack of mistakes, credit for that goes to my beta unreservedly. Doubtless prior to her coming the story was an awkward and confusing pile of sentences trying in vain to cooperate. **

**Owltalon: Yeah, she's a jerk. :) It's a benign and extremely overused statement, but it's good to be back. I've been envisioning the last two and the following chapter for about a year now. And lastly, **_**UPDATE!**_

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><p>Rathon stood in the middle of ten attacking solders, back to back with his Zodion. Even standing five to one, the two of them together held the assailing force at bay. They guarded the main entrance to the palace, by which the entire army of the Black Chamber fought for control of the palace. Despite his preferred weapon, Zodion battled with the blade. He had completely run through the excess energy stored in his crystal and was now recharging it with the fading lives of his fallen enemies. With a mighty swing to the lower abdomen, the last of the ten solders fell to the ground. The Black Chamber stayed a distance away, watching the two of them, knowing that if they attacked, they too would lay dead before long.<p>

Zodion yanked his sword out of the back of one of his former opponents, surveying them the Chamber solders before them. "Well, my apprentice, I dare say we have broken their wits."

"Indeed, master." Despite their confident conversation, another conversation ran through their minds. _This doesn't seem right, _Rathon said. _I sense no fear from them, yet they hesitate._

_I know, _Zodion replied. _They aren't scared at all. Their pupils are of normal size. Why, then, do they pause in their attack?_

_Could they be collecting themselves? Preparing for the next attack?_

_If that were true, why would they attack in the same way each time? Planning such a coordinated attack on an entire nation is not a feet of idiots._

The wave of solders ran forward again, attacking in the exact same fashion they had been. One single concentrated attack, with every man focused on overwhelming the two.

_Something is wrong, _Zodion said. He slammed a man to the ground, breaking his neck with the back of his boot. Rathon glanced over at him, just in time to see a light brighten his master's eyes. "Of course," he said.

The wave of solders fell back again, maintaining their self-same position of standing, starring, and waiting. Zodion plunged his sword into the back of the enemy he had slain. "As I suspected," he said, watching the men before him. "They display no emotion, no thought, and no care. Their eyes do not flinch or flicker, no sweat adorns their brow, no thought lives in their eyes."

"Master, is it safe to be speaking these things aloud?"

"Of course it is. We're alone. They can't hear us."

Rathon looked back at the men, realization hitting him. _Mind slaves. _He gritted his teeth. "That would explain why they show no emotion and continue to attack brainlessly. Because they are brainless."

"But who could have such strength to command so many?" he asked, un-strapping the crystal from his hand. He held out his palm to Rathon. "Lend me your strength. This much energy I cannot afford to return to this crystal." Rathon placed a hand in his master's, giving unfettered access to almost all his energy. "I will not deplete you," he said. "But when I cast this, you must run, as swiftly as you can."

"Why? And to where?"

His eyes were grave. "You will know where. You must hurry. I can offer you only forty seconds." Rathon felt his master dip into the pool of his energy, taking a vast sum of it.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, wondering what would take so much.

"Something that only a true Master of our art could hope to achieve." As the solders once again began their barrage, Zodion released his grip from Rathon, spread his arms out to either side, his eyes shining blue from the energy in his body, and intoned, "Cease!"

There was a blur in the world before Rathon. The death crows of the skies began to slow, moving slower by the second, until they hung, suspended in mid-flight. The arrow directed at Rathon's forehead, which he had been about to block, he watched as it slowly slid to a stop, and hung there, as though it were held by a string from miles above. The solders that were attacking them slowed to a stop, though their eyes maintaining their lifeless glitter.

Rathon blinked, wondering if he was in a dream. Then the true measure of what Zodion had done overcame him. He dropped to a knee, amazed and astonished beyond belief. _He….stopped time. _He didn't even want to think about how difficult such a task would be, let alone how perfect the energy manipulation would have to be. Remembering his master's orders, he staggered up and hurried off in a random direction, not sure exactly where to go.

A sword that nearly gutted him made him violently aware that Zodion had stopped time only above and in front of him. Rathon gripped the sword arm of the solder that had attempted to gut him, head butting him while sending a burst of energy through his skull. The man fell, unconscious. _Let someone else deal with you, _he thought. He made his way up a flight of winding stairs to the battlements above. There he watched, fascinated, as Zodion's manipulation ended and the world began to move once more. It did not begin to act suddenly, as he had expected, but rather in the same lethargic speed it had entered the manipulation induced state.

The ferocious beating of wings made Rathon stagger back. He covered his face as silver scales flooded his vision. A dragon landed in front of him.

"_Arani," _he said, with both his mind and voice.

_Come, _she said, her voice frantic. _Katelyn. She's been badly wounded._

Rathon panicked and he leapt onto the dragon's back. She took off once he was settled, not giving him time to strap himself in. He didn't want it. He tightened his grip on the dragon for dear life. Zodion had taken enough energy from him that he didn't dare use it now. Arani tipped up and around, flapping as quickly as she could. Rathon looked down at the battle, as men of Vroengard battled the Black Chamber. Then they were swopping down and the forces of gravity pulled on Rathon so harshly he feared he might fall off. Arani landed with a crash. Rathon jumped down, unsteady. When he caught his balance, he looked about. He stood on one of the empty battlements, a juncture between two parts of the palace that was abandoned from the fighting.

There, on the ground near a flight of stairs, lay a body in pool of blood. His heart skipped a beat. It was Katelyn; no question about it. Over her sat Brom, his forehead coated in sweat as he worked furiously to save her. Rathon sprinted over to him.

"Rathon," Katelyn said; her voice unnaturally calm. "Where is Arani?"

"Be quiet," Brom said. "Save your strength."

Arani settled down behind the three. Her head snaked over the top of them. Rathon watched in helplessness. He knew nothing of healing magic, and had failed from the day he began at even reshaping skin. He lacked the energy to save Katelyn now. He examined the wound. It had been made with a knife, which much was clear. But it was far deeper than any knife ought to have been and far too jagged to have been made by a sword. Blood seeped from it like a fountain. Brom gasped for air and his magic ceased, but the blood continued to flow.

"Do something!" Rathon shouted.

"I'm doing everything I can! The magic connects, but it does nothing!"

"Stop," Katelyn said. "Save your power for when it is needed."

"This _is _needed," Brom replied. He gripped his right arm with his left, trying to hold it steady, but the power he pushed out would not have been sufficient to even stop the blood. He fell to his hands and knees.

"What are you doing?" Rathon cried.

Brom's voice, when it finally came, was hollow and dejected. "I've done everything I can do."

Rathon wrapped a fist around Brom's tunic and yanked him up. "Have you the slightest inkling how long I have had to listen to you boast of your strength? And you play lame now?"

"Leave him," Katelyn said. "Leave him," she said, quieter. Rathon released Brom and yet down on his knees.

"You can't just die now," he said, his voice shocking with tears. He racked his mind and said, "You haven't become a Master Rider. You haven't fulfilled your dream."

Katelyn looked at Rathon, and the depth of emotions she had never before expressed was shown. He saw understanding, acceptance, and love. Love. "Every Rider, before they are made a Master, must prove themselves in some act. This will function as mine. I stand on Death's door and I feel not the sting of fear." Her eyes drifted to Brom. "Prince," she said, expectantly.

Brom's took a shaky breath, and turned to her. His voice wobbled as he intoned the ceremonial speech that took an apprentice and transcended them into the ranks of the Masters. "We are the Riders. We live in the dark to serve all that is light. From the noble actions of our forefathers do we draw this mission. Each Rider must prove his dedication to our Order by an act of bravery not meant for the weak hearted. This Rider has been killed in service to her people. No braver act exists than to lay down your life. She stands before the threshold of death and feels not the fear of the shadows. Therefore, by the power enthralled into me by the Mighty Dragons, I name her Dragon Rider and bestow onto her all rights that such a title of power entails." He bowed his head and said in a voice of a funeral, "May her spirit and that of her dragon intertwine as never before."

Katelyn rested her head in the pool of blood. She coughed and a line of red ran down her cheek. "Thank you," she said softly.

Rathon hated this. He hated Brom, the Black Chamber, and this entire situation with which he had been born. He laid his head close to Katelyn's. "You can't leave me," he said, so soft that Brom could not hear.

Katelyn opened her eyes and strained to lay a hand on his cheek. "Is that truly what you believe? That I am leaving you? No. As long as you live, I shall never depart this land." Her hand fell and he yearned for it to return. He knew, despite every desire he had, that she lacked the strength to keep it up and her final moments were winding down. Then, in a voice that was hardly audible, she said, "I shall always love you." Her eyes drifted shut and she appeared to be asleep. As the battle for Vroengard continued to rage below, Katelyn, daughter of Roran and Katrina, Rider of the first dragon of the New Order, took her last breath.

Thunder clapped, though there were no clouds in the air. Echothain rested his head on the side arm of his chair.

"Did she do it, my Lord," one of his men asked.

"Yes, though I had to possess her body. Disregarding that small mishap, everything has gone according to plan."

"Shall I have the men retreat then?"

"No. Their fate is the same the left way as it is the right. It won't take much longer."

Rathon sat over Katelyn's body, numb to the entire world. He felt as though a part of the fabric of his soul had been ripped away and beaten into the ground. He didn't know what to think, what to feel or what to do. He was lost.

Then, a thought entered his mind. _Revenge._

"I'm sorry," Brom said, his voice as hollow as Rathon felt.

Rathon looked down at the necklace that hung from his neck. White as the new snow. He would need something else. Light did not have the power to restore or take life, but Shadow did. _Why did I surrender it_?he asked, angered. He placed a hand on his face, feeling Katelyn's blood on his palm. A single word pulsed through his mind, each beat louder than the last. _Revenge. Revenge__!__ REVENGE! _"Move," he said.

"What?"

"Move!" Brom stepped aside as Rathon stood and turned. He slowly walked to the top of the battlement, his pent up anger at the entire world trembling the air around him. He gripped Light in his fist, and began to change it. He took its power to grant joy and replaced it with the power to kill. He took its power over happiness and gave it despair. What he did could end in his death. But he was too weak to do what he wanted to do on his own and his tools at the present were insufficient.

He changed Light's very nature to resemble Shadow. He had held them both for long enough to learn how to shift their attributes.

He stopped atop the battlement, his wrath so violent cracks appeared in the stone below him. But it was not entirely him, but Light as well. Rathon ripped Light from his neck and held it overhead. The soldiers on the ground shouted out in fear, the first sign of emotion they had shown. A vague, unheeded thought ran through his mind, like a squirrel running from one side of the road to another. _They've been released._

The pent up anger inside of Rathon burst forth in a single, uttered word. "Die." It was not a spell, or energy manipulation. It was, simply, an order.

For a moment, the word hung in the air. Then, as it touched the ear of every living thing that stood in the island that was not a man, woman or child of Vroengard, fell to death. The gore crows of the air to the planets. But more specifically, every member of the Black Chamber fell down as their hearts stopped. When the deed was done, Rathon dropped to his knees, his heart aching over Katelyn's death. And he raised his head to the skies and shouted his lamentations to the sky, as the dead death birds from above rained down upon them.

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><p><strong>Well, that was a less enjoyable chapter to write, but on the plus side, it practically wrote itself. Half of this was in the first book to begin with and the rest I just had to scribble down.<strong>


	25. The Tale of the Spells

**So this chapter goes out to one of my readers, an anonymous one who posted a review on the 25th, requesting that I give a bit more description to what the Spells are, what they can do, and what they're general history is. And it just so happens that I can fit that in with the natural flow of the story; so, here ya go.**

**funnelwebs: :) Good to hear.** **There'll be another time jump between the second and the third. For spoiler reasons I can't answer any of your other questions, but I suspect you already knew that. :) As for my writing speed, the story is a bit more of a priority since I can get college credits for it, but I still have a personal life that trumps the writing of this story everyday of the week. So, I will promise that I will continue it; but I can not make any such promise on the update speed. Does that sound like an agreeable compromise?**

**Owltalon: Yeah, I know, it sucks. But, it was a chapter that had to happen, for numerous reasons which should become readily apparent, barring any unfortunate mishaps in regards to someone finding a hole in the plot. **

**Spaarx: I know. I've been dreading that chapter's coming since the middle of the last book. As for the Echothain and Rathon and what not, no comment. That's going to throw an M-80 on the rest of the story if I comment on that now. :) Have faith, though, as I understand how irritating hearing the same old, "I'll get around to it," excuse must get. As I'll say in the next review response, what kind of suspense would have been produced if Oromis explained everything about the Eldunari to Eragon the first time Eragon asked? **

**Dracones: Ok, so I will take it from the top. Yes, it was focused primarily, or exclusively, on Rathon, if for no other reason than it was in his point of view I planned the chapter, and there was no other way I felt I could fluidly work in any other POV. I did fix the dragon comment in this chapter, however, as that is an admittedly obvious blunder. And as for Brom's reaction to the changing of Light and Rathon's mass killing, it'll all be addressed. What kind of story would Eldest be if Oromis told Eragon everything about the Eldunari the second the question perked in Eragon's mind? Gotta have suspense. **

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><p>Rathon's eyes slowly opened. He lay in his bed, listening to the rain outside pour down onto Vroengard. He felt nothing, not an emotion or a thought.<p>

_I am a murderer of thousands, _he thought. _I took the lives of thousands as carelessly as I would swipe a fly. _That was not what truly made him feel so hollow. Katelyn was gone, and that resonated within him like a gong. It occurred to him that this was what Eragon had hoped to prepare them for during their first five years of rule. He shoved the thought away, not wanting to give credence to it.

A gentle rapping came from the door. He lay, with his eyes on the ceiling, for a solid minute, refusing to answer it. _I am the King of Man. I can have an hour of peace if I desire it._

Then a soft voice came from the door. It was quiet, burdened by sorrow. "Rathon. I know you're in here." A long pause followed. "I can smell you." His eyes drifted to the door and with the faint behest of his will he unlock the door and it opened.

Nayter stood in the entryway, her eyes downcast. She wore a dress of the darkest black. He could feel, practically taste, the sadness coming from her. He looked lower, for he saw something moving, and was surprised to see her tail flowing out from the bottom of her dress. Though she could never hide her wolf born ears or tail like her mother could, she went out of her way to hide them through mundane means. He was about to comment on it, when Zodion's words returned to him, and he held his tongue.

He sat up and held out a hand. "Won't you join me?" Her eyes lifted, but she refused to meet his gaze.

"I…wished only to check on you."

"And I wish for a companion. Cannot we serve both our purposes?"

She dipped her head and ascended to sit beside him. Together, they looked out at the raging sea. Four days had passed since Vroengard had been besieged, yet pieces of the boats of the Black Chamber still floated upon the surface of the waves. Rathon tried not to think of what he had brought about, for he feared it would consume him. He had never taken a life. Then, in less than a day, he had the blood of thousands on his hands. And it spread further than Vroengard.

A day after the battle, word had come by message of rider that through all three of the kingdoms, members of the Black Chamber had fallen to death in mid-fight. The rough estimate of the deaths of that nature tipped to thirty thousand. And all of them named him their killer.

"What should I do?"Rathon looked over at Nayter. She sat with her les up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Genuine fear bedeviled her eyes.

"You are next in line to take the throne of the Dwarfs."

"I can't do that," she said. "I don't know…I can't even…how would I…" She put her face in her hands.

"The Spells wax and wane like the moon. The newer the host, the newer the spell. Yours is the base of all magic, the foundation that provides the world of magic with stability. If BloodFire does not have a Master, who knows what will happen?"

"Why does it have to be me?" she asked, despair in her voice. "Why is this lot appointed to my hand? I did not ask for it. I do not have the strength to bare it. I do not have the ability to perform as a queen. Always I have been in the background, and I would have it no other way."

Her form, a helpless young girl thrust into the place of power against her will was the night and day opposite of the side of her personality he had seen in battle; the one that craved war and death.

As he was thinking this, he looked back outside, to the raging seas. And unbidden, memories of the battle days before returned to him; feeling the life slip out of Katelyn. Arani's anguished roar. And then, his command. His soul was darkened with blood, but he was resolute to not feel guilt over it. Even though the fabric of his identity may be stained with blood, it was not innocent blood. It was the blood of his enemies and he was determined that a man should feel proud to wear it.

He stifled back, as Nayter curled herself up beside him. She was close to him, so close that her tail touched his leg, closer than she had ever been to him. In a shallow voice, empty of all emotions, she said, "Would you tell me a story?"

The request confused him for a moment. "Of what?" he asked.

"I care not. Hearing the sound of someone's voice over me has always soothed my mind. Tell me the story of the Three Spells. You of all people should know their history."

He did. He had read through the book of ShadowLight many times, as only he could decipher all the texts, and so he was well acquainted. And so he closed his eyes, conscience of how close Nayter was, and retold the story.

"Before the Dawn of Intellect, when naught but the Elves, the Dragons and the Dwarfs wandered from sea to sea, the Great Spells took shape. It is not clear how they did this. It could be that they were formed by some prehistoric magician with unnatural powers or be the result of a catastrophe, or that they are some byproduct of the God's design. Disregarding their origin, they proved themselves the strongest spells in existence. There were three: BloodFire, the Spell of Changing. LunarMist, the Spell of Seeing. And ShadowLight, the Spell of Knowing."

"BloodFire had the power of shaping magic, and through it, all magic is supported. Without this Spell, all others would fall behind it. LunarMist had the power of vision, seeing and understanding everything it looked upon. ShadowLight had the power over time, with the ability to reach forward or backwards to touch, and affect, anything it desired."

"Formed by the Spirits of the natural world, these three held domain over it. These three lived in perfect unity, holding the world and everything in it in balance. Then came the Humans and Urgals. And then the wars of the Dragons and Elves broke out. The world was being cast into darkness, being rent in two with anger and war. Before the moment of all ending, the three Spells came out of their magical hiding and bound themselves with three men. Kayalder, who was the Lord of Dragons in those days, was bound with ShadowLight. Echothain, brother of Kayalder, was bound with BloodFire. And Eragon, first born of the Riders, took on LunarMist."

"These men gained power over all, with the ability to command the Spells to do their will. But the Spells maintained their wild nature, refusing orders that contradicted their will. With Echothain's aid, Eragon tied the souls of Dragons and Elves together, to stop the war. Eragon was placed as the first Rider and after him came many more, so many that the ability to put an exact number on them has been lost to all historians." Rathon paused to clear his throat. He watched Nayter, expecting her tail to flick as it usually did, but it was as lifeless as stick.

"Those days were great. The world returned to balance. All lived in peace and prosperity. But the Spells are passive entities, like birds trapped in a cage, longing for the freedom of the open skies. As the days dragged on, their wills began to return to the open world, and to not being bound by the flesh. Their powers waned, until the three wielders became like common men. In haste to keep the order of the world in equilibrium, they released BloodFire, ShadowLight and LunarMist out of themselves and sent them out into the natural world again. They did so, grudgingly, for they had grown fond of their powers over all men. And so they set safeguards onto the Spells. Among them, was the last defense all three of them share, to cause those who look on them to feel desire for them in their hearts. They did this, so that the Spells would never be destroyed. And they bound their powers together, and made a pact with the Spells, an agreement that once a wielder always a wielder, so that they would be able to call on the Spells when need be."

Rathon opened his eyes, the light of the world seeming dull and lifeless to him. "And today," he said, in conclusion, "the three Great Spells remain in parts unknown, hidden away by their first masters." There was a long moment of silence, and Rathon began to suspect Nayter had fallen asleep, when she spoke.

"When was this story written?"

"Around a millennium ago. Why do you ask?"

She pushed herself up, faced him, and took Light into her hand. "Because, these Spells are anything but hidden."

They looked into each other's eyes. Rathon could feel Nayter through Light. Her identity, her soul, her essence, that which made Nayter herself. It quivered in sadness, but there was something precious about it. There was something that made him understand her more than anyone else and want to protect her. Then something flashed inside of her and she closed her eyes, pulling back, biting her lip and stiffening her tail. Rathon felt her soul darken, her heart hardening into something it was not. He suddenly felt as though he were in contact with a completely different being. He remembered her wolf side and thought, _This is her. _On impulse, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing energy into her and fighting the battle she fought in her mind; the battle of her two natures warring for supremacy. After a few minutes and when the bloody impulses of a wolf that flashed in her mind; to rip open the entrails of her enemies and fest on their bodies ceased her eyes slowly flickered open. He saw something new in them. A hurt feeling, an emotion of pain that he had seen something Nayter had never wanted him to see. Yet he saw it.

"That isn't me," she whispered. "I am not those things." Despite her words, he heard in her voice a fear like no other that she believed that he thought those things about her.

"I know," he said. "They were not your fault, but that of your mother's."

A knocking came from the door. Rathon extended his arm and the door slid open. Brom stood in the entryway, Rylar by his side. At first he was annoyed, not wanting to deal with or be around Rylar, until he saw his brother's stern expression and that Rylar's hands were bound.

"Brother," he said, sitting up. Brom walked into the room. He held out a hand and the necklace that was BloodFire trickled out of his hand. "Where did you find it?" Rathon asked, surprised. After Katelyn had died, and during the mournful roars of her dragon and the death birds falling from the skies, they had searched her body but found no trace of BloodFire.

Brom shoved Rylar forward. "_She _had it! I came into my room this morning and there it was, hanging from her neck!" Rylar staggered forward under the weight of his arm, falling face first into one of the many couches arrayed below Rathon's sleeping area. As she forced herself up, awkwardly because of her bonds, Brom said, "And I much desire to know how she came into possession of it."

Rathon drew his sword and went down beside his brother. As Rylar sat fully up Rathon leveled the blade at her neck. "Aye. I would like to know that myself." He stood; ready to call of Light at a moment's notice.

Rylar looked between the two of them, eyes darting back and forth as a rat trapped in a corner. Then she smiled a gorgeous smile, shuffling her chest so that her dress fell loose around her bosom, and said in a husky voice, "Boys, please. I promise you, there is enough of me to satisfy the lust of both of you."

A spark of rage lit Brom's eyes and struck out, punching her square in the jaw. Rylar squeaked, as though she had never expected that tactic would fail. "Your banter does not amuse me. How did you come into possession of BloodFire, yet failed to alert me or Rathon, or anyone for that matter, of Katelyn's plight?"

Rylar picked herself up and looked at Brom with astonishment. Genuine hurt filled her eyes. Her eyes darkened and she turned away. "It was not on Katelyn when I found it. It was lying, unguarded, I might add, on the gravel road to the entrance of the palace. I thought to pick it up, so that it would not fall into the hands of that man leading the attacking army." Her next sentence sounded as though it came from a jealous, scorned teenage girl. "Forgive me that your all precious love saw fit to be foolish with a mighty weapon."

Rathon ran everything she said through his mind, checking it for any flaw. The armies of Vroengard had withdrawn to their houses, what ones remained unburned, or into the palace, to mourn the lives of those lost. It was entirely possible that they all had missed BloodFire, a discrete necklace in a mountain of bodies, lying on the ground somewhere. Any man would turn his eye away from such carnage.

Before Rathon or Brom could reply, Nayter said, "She lies." They looked up at her as she descended the steps to them. Her wolf ears tipped out of her hair. "She did not find it there."

Brom licked his lips. Rathon thought he was going to accost her, but instead he said, "How do you know?"

Nayter approached them and laid three fingers on Rylar's chest, just over her heart. "The heart, regardless the quality of the person, desires to do good. It rejects murder, stealing, cheating, and lying. Detests the very concept. So when we do those things, our heart beat rises sharply. This isn't due to a morality conflict. Because above the desire to do good, the heart desires not to be caught in doing what it knows is wrong. So it pumps more blood to the body; dilating your pupils so that you have a wider range of vision, secreting adrenaline to help you run away as fast as you can without tiring, making you sweat so that you can more easily escape the grip of a person. Depending on the level of the reaction, it is easy to deduce what crime of the heart that person is guilty of. And what she just said made her heart thump like the dwarf drums. She is lying. There is no question."

Brom's eyes locked with Rylar's. "She is the daughter of a man wiser than a king and I trust her word. So let us hear the true story."

Rylar looked down at the ground for a moment, and then leapt up, tearing her bonds apart, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Rathon said, "Light!" Nayter's eyes darkened into a ruby red and she bared her fangs. Brom lifted a hand to strike her down. From the ring on Rathon's hand, Light spewed forth, enveloping everything in the room. It made a wall harder than any prison on the door and the window. As the last shred of darkness faded from the room Rylar dropped to her knees, terror in her eyes.

"You must help me. He watches my every step. He possess my body when I don't do as he wishes. You must save me!"

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><p><strong>Short chapter for two reasons: One, all I need from it was to establish the above cliffhanger, and two it's primary purpose was to explain the stuff I did a rather poor job of earlier.<strong>


	26. A New Love Begins

**Spaarx: :) Yeah, can't say I feel sorry for her either. I would just dub this a story. Not really sufficient level to deserve any of your other three options. Not sure what to make of the ?x? Do you wanna aid some more detail on that one, perhaps?**

**Owltalon: :) I have been counting down the seconds until I could do that; catch her in something evil that is. **

**Arya Shadeslayer: Okay, so that was a long list of words. So, I will give response to them in the order they appear. Thanks, glad you like it. I'm a college student and I also have a life. Thanks for the input, although as per usual it will doubtfully be made into output. If you don't like the attributes of a fan made story, FanFiction is probably not a good place for you to be. Thank you for the suggestion. **

**Funnelwebs: :) Glad my stories have as a wide range of appeal as they apparently do. The M rating is less of cause more for safety. If it's the maximum, it covers that plus everything below it. That's the way I look at it anyway. **

**Anon: :) Happy to be of service. Hate the concept that my stories don't make sense, so when someone, you, said they didn't I tried to fit in a more in depth explanation without disrupting the plot line. **

**Dracones: Rylar is the fall girl for the entire story I think. As for her motives, :), you'll have to read to find out. Took me a while to hammer out all the details for the three spells, but once I did, I was really satisfied. **

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><p><strong><em><span>If you don't care about this, suggested you move on to the story. You've been fairly warned.<span>_**

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><p><strong>So this next one is a bit of a personal one for me. This person, don't know the name because I deleted it, was going all over my stories posting the same message as a review. The message went like this: FYI: Just a warning to all, a group called Critics United is currently going <strong>**around and mass reporting on Any story they deem to be breaking FF rules. This includes, but is not limited to: stories with MA or above rated content, though now they're claiming any kind of lemon is breaking the rules, Songfic's, and any stories with polls, authors notes, or otherwise in place of an actual chapter update, you could even end up accidentally put your story into what they view as being the "incorrect category" and they'll report you for it. These stories are being deleted with little to no warning given, often within hours of one of their members locating it. If you want try to help stop the "cleansing" of this site and protest their bullying go to: and sign the petition in hopes of helping to stop the destruction of FF . net.**

**So, as I said, this is a personal one. Because it's a personal response. Do I think he'll see it; no. Probably just went on random stories and posted the message in the list he found. Regardless, I feel honor bound to respond. I cut out the link because I'm not going to be his paper girl. So, here we go. **

**Number 1: Bull. Freaking. Crap. **

**Number 2: Even if such a ludicrous "organization" exists, I find the possibilities of FanFiction listening to them and deleting stories left and right to be absurd and anyone who has been in FanFiction for as long as I have would likely agree. **

**Number 3: My story operates inside the guidelines set forth by FanFiction. Their site, their rules. If they wanted to delete a story for violating those guidelines it's their right. Fortunately, though, I have nothing to worry about in those regards. **

**Number 4: Wouldn't matter if they did, because I have all the chapters of all my stories backed up in my email. **

**Number 5: I am a tolerant person, but I will, in no way, allow you or anyone else to use my stories as a message board to try and beg other people to go and do what you want. These stories are meant to display what I think and for people to give comments on it. _Not _so that you can come along and use it as a desperate cry for attention. So these are your options. A: Stop posting these reviews with these bull crap assertions. B: Keep posting them as an anonymous reviewer, and get the comment removed every time. Or C: Get an actual FanFiction account, rendering that ability of mine to delete your reviews void, and instead get reported. Your choice.**

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><p>Aesire withdrew his hand from Rylar's head. His regularly calm demeanor seemed to shift then to a more stoic gaze of curiosity.<p>

After Rylar's outburst she had agreed to, and wholeheartedly welcomed, being bound by LunarMist. From there, Brom and Rathon, accompanied by Nayter, had taken her to the throne room of Eragon and Arya. Eragon had questioned her, attained from her what information she had told Brom and Rathon, and then had called on Aesire to assure she spoke the full truth.

Rathon sat in one of the chairs set along the tables that lined Eragon's throne room, agitatedly tapping his foot. Naydel sat across from him, summed to his aid as they went to the throne room. Nayter stood beside Brom. They both watched Aesire's face as he shifted through Rylar's mind, seeing everything, needed or unneeded.

"Well?" Eragon finally asked.

"It was she who brought the knife down upon Katelyn. It was she who took BloodFire away from her corpse. It was she whom Echothain spoke of when he said he had aid inside our walls. It was she who has given away the brunt of our defenses, and by what way they might be undermined, to our enemy. I am convinced, however, that she speaks the truth as she has said it; that she did none of these things of her conscious will. I will grant, Your Majesty, that there were things she did that were not entirely against her wishes, but I agree that there has not been a single action she has taken that was not provoked by the Black Chamber."

Eragon sighed. Rather than making the situation easier, that deduction made handling the resent events all the harder.

Rathon grinded his teeth in rage. _Katelyn died for nothing! It was not in just battle, fighting to save the people she dedicated her life to protect, but at the hand of a backstabbing ally! _Naydel's presence was the one thing that stopped him from acting on his wrath at Rylar.

After nearly a full minute of Eragon's silence, Arya spoke. "Brom, my Son. Rylar is your charge. Perhaps she is born of human blood, but she is your Second Hand. By your royal decree, she is your responsibility. So before Eragon renders his verdict, I wish to hear your planned course of action."

Brom cast a glance at Rylar for a moment. Then he dipped into a bow to the thrones of the High King and Queen. "I shall discharge her from my service, bar her from entering Du Weldenvarden for the duration of her life, and if you are agreeable, sentence her to either life in a prison or the noose." Fear grew in Rylar's eye, but she could not speak. LunarMist would not allow it.

Arya turned her eyes to Eragon. "Eragon, what is your choice? I find his solution to be a serviceable one. Whether by her conscious will or not, she murdered the Queen of the Dwarfs. Such a crime cannot go unpunished; the people will not stand for it."

Eragon's eyes were dark. Katelyn, his niece; her blood was on Rylar's hands. Rathon knew by that look in his father's eye, that vengeance was on his mind. Eragon drew a hand over his face and slumped back in his throne. "Ever have I despised the task of peace maker, yet always is it placed on my shoulders." He closed his eyes and then sat forward briskly."Rylar!" He said in a loud voice. At his word Brom ordered LunarMist back to him and Rylar slumped to the ground. "Thousands, elf, dwarf and human alike lay dead in your path. And it could be argued that if you had acted differently, if any of them would lay in the grave now." He placed a hand on his heart. "My subjects, those who place their faith in me to guide them, lay in Death's embrace because of you; thousands by your action and inaction, and one, my niece and a Queen to boot, by your hand." He shook his head, his crown threatening to topple off its perch by the motion. "I cannot, _will not_ allow you to go unpunished for your crimes."

Aesire stepped forward then. "Sire, please. She was not responsible for herself."

Eragon directed his eyes at Aesire, his gaze like a flaming arrow. "Then whom shall I punish? To whom may the dead cry out for recompense? By whom shall I convict the wrong doings of these past days, Aesire, you of such logic? The people stir for justice! I cannot render unto them a verdict of innocence by reason of lack of mental control. Who will comfort the weeping mothers of the slain sons, the crying children of the butchered fathers, or the mourning wives of the killed husbands? Will it be you? No one man can do so much. A nation, a kingdom, cries out for someone, something, to take out its sorrows of those killed! Do you expect me to tell them, that though every solder that attacked Vroengard was killed in the span of a single moment, the one man responsible for the death of thousands and the Queen of the Dwarfs escaped, and that they must bury their slain loved ones without any recompense?" He looked back at Rylar. "Yet here is one who would take that blame; one who admits to the crime of killing a Queen. "He let the silence draw on. "Aesire; he who is named the Stem of the All Seeing Eye, if you would deprive me of my right as High King, what would you have done?"

Rathon turned his gaze to Aesire. For all he was concerned, he would see Rylar hanged. In fact, he would not shirk the opportunity to pull the lever to kill her himself. And he believed that everyone in the room shared that sentiment, until he saw Aesire. He had expected Aesire, whom he had seen fight with his father on many occasions, to point out that they were allies and that it was pointless to fight. Instead, he stood there, eyes locked with the king's, an expression in his eyes of understanding unlike anything he had ever seen.

"I would never deprive you of your right as High King, my Lord. You sitting on that throne is what I sacrificed so much to see happen. I merely call into question your reasoning. Remember those years ago, when the Varden laid siege to Uru'baen, and you and I stood before Galbatorix. Do you still recall how we beat him and stood over him as his judges? What was our verdict, when the man who had taken your father, your uncle, your life from, sat at your feet and awaited your ruling? The most evil man in the world, in recorded time who by all rights deserved to die a thousand deaths, each more gruesome and painful than the last." He shook his head slowly. "We did not choose to sentence him to one single death; that would be too kind. No; he sentenced him to live. To live and watch the world, knowing that he could never again touch it. And by that life, we gave him a punishment more deserving than any measure of pain taking his life would render." Aesire lifted his arms out to either side and let them fall back on his waist. "That is what I ask of you now, King Eragon, that you act as you did then, above the desires of your flesh, wiser than your years, bolder than your experience, and filled with more of what you call 'justice' than any in the land. To step outside the pretenses of your intuition and render a verdict more suited and correct than any lower judge could." His eyes still locked with Eragon's he uttered in a low voice, "I ask that you be a king."

Eragon's eyes continued to fire for only a moment more and then he slumped back in his throne and put his face in his hand. "Your argument is valid. I cannot find flaw in it. You are my advisor, so I would hear your opinion on the best course of action."

"Don't put her to death in a public trial. Instead, free her from the binds Echothain has on her."

"You would have me reward the death of Katelyn?"

"No. By this choice I would have you cripple Echothain, by removing his spearhead and placing it in the bottom dungeon of Vroengard, so that he can no longer see into or affect this island." Aesire gestured back at Rylar. "She is innocent of choosing what she has done. Put her in the dungeon, and you satisfy both the people and make Echothain's advantage meaningless."

"And what, pray tell, would I gain by doing this that I would not by simply killing her?"

"If you kill her, you lose all the information she could tell you about the Black Chamber."Aesire looked back at Rylar. "She must be in possession of some knowledge of where the Black Chamber is situated, or where Echothain escaped to. Spare her life and she may yet share it with you."

Eragon dropped his arm. "You have convinced me. Rylar," he said, directing his voice at the woman. "Stand." With a shaky footing, Rylar stood. "I hereby strip you of your title as a Second Hand. You are never again to step foot in the Elven or Dwarfen territory. I shall place spells on you to ensure that if you do, of your own conscious will since that is the heart of this issue, you will fall dead immediately."

"Additionally," he said, leaning forward. "I will instruct Brom and Rathon to remove what hold Echothain has over you. Their power together should be enough to master it. That having been said, I want to know some things from you first."

"I will answer any question to the best of my ability," Rylar said, and then repeated herself in the Ancient Language.

"Good. My first question: where is Echothain?"

"I don't know, my Lord. He shifts between place and time at his will. He could be on the moon or standing outside that door. If I had to make an informed guess, though, the city of Eoam would be my first and only guess. There is a house, a mansion really, with a silver roof and a blood red window. That is all I recall of it. I was brought there a year ago. I was blindfolded, and so those are the only details I know."

Eragon looked at Aesire. "See that five war vessels are sent to Eoam. Outfit them with five Riders a piece. Send out a public decree to Eoam. No one comes or leaves the islands without royal permission written by my hand and with my seal until those ships arrive."

Aesire dipped his head. "Sire."

Eragon returned his attention to Rylar and Brom. "I have another question for you, Rylar."

"And I shall answer it, Lord."

"If what Rathon and Brom say holds true, you choose to attack two foes that you knew you had no opportunity to overwhelm. Promptly afterwards you ceased your attack, only to fall at their feet and beg for mercy. Do you deny this?"

"No."

"Then answer me this: why?"

"Because I needed them to summon their spirits' offensive powers. Echothain knows the stories of what while occur if any of the three meet in battle. Devastation. That is why I needed Brom and Rathon to summon Light and LunarMist, so that Echothain would withdraw BloodFire."

Eragon ran his hand over his face. "Aesire."

"Yes?"

"How is it that BloodFire named Katelyn its master, yet this Echothain still commands its allegiances?"

"The original three Wielders of the Spells made a pact with the Spells- once a Wielder always a Wielder. Because of that, Echothain maintains his control over BloodFire. What they had to sacrifice in trade to make the spells agree to that…" He shook his head. "I don't want to even imagine."

"Does that mean you could still command LunarMist?"

"No. If you will recall, I sacrificed that to do away with Galbatorix. As far as LunarMist was concerned, for the years after we slew Galbatorix I was its carrier, not its master. I forfeited all rights to it that day in Uru'baen."

Eragon sighed. "Let it be then." He rested his head against the back of his throne, his eyes closed. "I have one last question, Rylar."

"Ask it, and it shall be answered."

Eragon leaned forward, and his eyes grew deathly serious. "Answer this next question with care. Did you do anything, anything at all, under the service of Echothain of your own will, or did he possess you every day? Were there times when you choose to do something that he ordered of you, simply because you wanted to?"

Rylar's eyes were downcast. "Yes, there were. I assure you, my King, that I am not an awful person. Even so, if it aids you, think of me as such. But yes, there were orders that I followed because I wished to. The seduction of Rathon during his time in Bullridge." Her eyes lowered even more. "And Brom. When he came to me only nights ago and we slept together. That was by my choice."

Eragon nodded. "It seems that all your actions that you choose carry a similar trait. You will forgive me if that casts aspirations on your character."

Rylar looked up at the king. Despite the shame in her voice, Rathon could see that were she placed in the same situation again, but outside of Echothain's control, she would have acted no differently. "And you will forgive me, my lord, for were, how, when, and to whom I was born. I grew up in a family of poverty after Galbatorix's downfall. Oh, you would have yourself believe that all was well after that man died. But we still starved. I still starved. And when my family died of that, what was I then: a little girl on the side of the road, crying and bagging for the pity of others. So I sought to change my position." Her eyes lowered to the floor once more. "After I enlisted to Echothain, yet my position did not shift in the slightest, having the love of a Rider, or better yet a prince, seemed the fastest way to do that." She closed her eyes. "Do you mean to tell me different?"

"I mean to call into question your methods."

Rylar scoffed. "Please, your majesty. As though a prince would ever look down from on high and pick of food from the bottom of the pile, of his own wishes."

Before Eragon could reply, Naydel spoke from behind her. "I am living proof that one such prince exists. I was no better than you, likely worse. Yet Rathon took me in and made me one of the most powerful people in the world."

"Enough of this," Arya said. "There are matters at hand, Eragon, and I see Rylar's as being dealt with."

Eragon nodded and closed his eyes. "We need a new ruler for the dwarfs. They will need someone to guide them." He opened his eyes and looked down on Nayter. "The position is rightfully yours." Nayter opened her mouth to protest, but Eragon raised his hand, stopping her. "Please, listen. There is more at hand than your right to it. First of all, and prime mostly, you were Katelyn's Second Hand. If this system of government, with rulers set and established that hand down the throne to a person they trust, is to take root, I must abide by it now. Also, the dwarfs know you. You have served above them for a half decade. They will accept no one more fluidly than you. Lastly is for who you are. I would trust you, the daughter of Aesire, with the throne first before any other." He looked down at Nayter, into her eyes that were heavily laden with fear. "I know you are fearful with Katelyn. But a nation calls to you and you alone. Without you, the dwarfs will collapse. If it sets your mind at ease, know that you may release the crown at any time of your choosing to another. However, I besiege you to take on the throne until this crisis is abated."

Nayter stared up at the King, fear clutching at her heart. With the country and the differing nations breaking into war, this was no time to refuse him. But that was not the reason she feared. Her other side, the one that burned with bloodlust, feed on anger and war. To go to a race, to rule it in a time of war, would be to feed her other side. Rathon's eyes, his eyes when he saw her in that state, she may never recover from the heartache they had caused her.

For a short time after that encounter she had considered taking her own life. What easier way to rid herself of the pain that emanated from her heart than to make it stop beating?

And then Brom had come.

The scene flashed in her mind.

_She stumbled across the battlefield, briefly flashing into the mind numbing bursts of rage and anger to kill a solder that was too weak to stand. When she woke from her violent spurt, blood covered her hands and wrists_,_ the red, sticky liquid dripping from her fangs. The three mangled corpses before her could not even be identified as human, let alone belonging to the Black Chamber. Blood was everywhere. She cupped her face in her hands and cried as she had never cried before._

_She made no attempt to stop the flashes of her bloodlust side. Whenever it sought control, it had it. She didn't want to live as her own self anymore. What she had never wanted to happen had occurred._

His eyes, _she thought. _He saw me. I am an animal, a beast, and he thinks the same!_ She groped at her leg, trying to feel for the knife she kept strapped there. _I would rather end it all now, _she thought_,than see those eyes on me again.

_A hand was placed on her shoulder. Her mind pulsed as the burning rage engulfed her. She turned, her eyes rubies, ready to rip apart whosoever stood behind her. Her arm lifted, preparing to lunge for their throat._

_Then, her anger melted._

_Brom stood over her, gore smearing his entire body. His hand was on her shoulder; energy that seemed endless pooling into her. In his eyes was a world wind of emotion. Anger and adrenaline, hatred, concern, curiosity and….affection._

_"Please," he said, when the bloodlust of her other nature subsided. "Please, don't harm yourself." He took her hands in his and pulled her up. "Your life is yours and yours alone, to live or take as you see fit. I can bear the death of my people, the sting of swords and arrows, or the pain of watching my dragon wounded, but I doubt I am strong enough that I could bear watching you harm yourself."_

_Nayter felt a stirring in her heart. She felt inexorably drawn to Brom. Her soul, her identity, seemed to push out to him, longing for him. His eyes…his eyes alone made every tear she had ever shed seem inconsequently. Practically without meaning to_,_ she wrapped her arms around his neck. The protection she felt, safe in his arms, outweighed any and all fears she had._

_She could not explain her reaction. In all the years she had been around Brom, she had seen him a stuck-up_,_ high headed soon to be king that was drowning in the seas of his own self-importance and arrogance. Then the day of Rathon and Katelyn's return; the words he had said to her. She had hated him with every fiber of her soul. But now…. She would have traded anything for that moment to last an eternity._

_But her other half would not allow it._

_It came like a spear, driving itself into her mind with one motive thought and intent: Control. She backpedaled from Brom, not wanting another person to see her other self. She fought viciously, with more vigor than she had ever fought. She clutched at her head, refusing to yield ground. However, she slowly felt the bloodlust winning. She could feel her teeth beginning to sharpen into fangs, her fingernails begin to tip into claws, and her own consciousness falling back into the hazy dream like state she went to when her wolf side took control. She was terrified, petrified, that when she woke up, Brom would be the next corpse before her._

_He took her hands, pulled her closer, and put his lips on hers and kissed her._

_In an instant, the raging anger dissolved as if it had never existed. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. Tingling ran through her body from the tips of her hair to her toes. Her head felt light as air. Her heart soared in the clouds on the wings of a phoenix. He pulled away and looked into her eyes. For the first time she saw love in them._

_"Forgive me," he said, as breathless as she felt. "I may not live to see the sunset and I wanted to do that at least once." Nayter could think of nothing to say. Her mind swirled in circles. Brom looked down at her hands, stained with blood. "You carry a heavy burden, Nayter." Nayter's heart skipped a beat. That may not have been the first time he referred to her by name, and not as the daughter of Aesire, but it would be the one she cherished in her heart for the rest of her days. "I would carry that burden for you, if I could. As it stands, this is all I can do for you." He closed his eyes and ran his thumbs over the skin of her hands. "LunarMist," he whispered. "Your Master calls to you with more need than ever before. I cannot ask that you remove her wolf side; to destroy part of her character. But I give you this command with more urgency than any I have given you." He opened his eyes and looked into hers. "Cleanse the stain on her soul."_

_Nayter took a sharp breath. The guilt, fear, pain and misery that were her constant companions, felt washed away. In the span of a moment, every heavy weight of a painful emotion felt lifted off her back. She felt free from them for the first time since she knew how to walk. Tears began to flow from her eyes. She opened her mouth to voice her gratitude, but he placed a finger on her lips._

_"No. You have already given me your thanks. For being the person that you are, disregarding all the opposition that faces you." He put his forehead on hers, his eyes misty pools. He chuckled softly. "How have I not seen this before? I am truly blind to not have seen you and this feeling in me before. Forgive me for the fool I have been to you. Please."_

_The pain she saw then in his eyes seemed frightening. She put a hand on his check. "I forgive you," she said. "I forgive you every harsh word and action you have ever pointed at me." The pain she saw lessoned greatly._

_He kissed her again, making her mind soar once more. "Thank you," he said. A third time he stole a kiss from her. "I must go now. The cries of war call to me and I must answer. Do not let everything you are be spoiled by the mistakes of others."_

_"I won't," she promised him._

_Brom turned and jumped off of the wall, drawing his sword with a wild battle cry. Her heart lurched, only to calm as she saw Zacaid catch him and soar off to the seas, where black ships floated and men came. Her heart thumped as she watched him go. A man wreathed in the flames of his dragon, his sword thrust out before him, his hair flying behind him. It took her breath away. She turned to go back to the fight, all thoughts or worries of her wolf side vanished._

Nayter took a breath and opened her eyes. She knew what Brom would want of her. She dipped her head and knelt. "I will serve as Queen of the Dwarfs, King Eragon. "

Eragon smiled. "Thank you, Nayter. You take a weight off my shoulders by your decision." He sighed, seeming pleased with the outcome. "I believe that settles that." His eyes darkened slightly. "Rylar. Do I have your word that you will not attempt to escape from this island?"

"More than my word, your eminence, but my gratitude."

"Sire," Nayter said.

"Yes, Nayter?"

"I have a request as the newly appointed ruler of the dwarfs."

Eragon lifted an eyebrow. He crossed one leg over the other and said, "Then give words to it."

"I would like to request that Rylar be treated fairly, as a survivor of war and not a prisoner of it."

"And why does she deserve that?" Eragon asked his voice steely.

"It is not a question of what she deserves, your highness. But rather, what we deserve to give her."

Eragon placed a hand on his head, his first finger resting on his temple. "Explain yourself."

Nayter nodded and took a deep breath before continuing. She was not used to having the authority to say such things. "The histories seem to recall more accurately than you, Sire that you once fought for a cause of liberation and justice. The Varden were formed to free a land oppressed by a madman. It was you that over the course of the Varden's campaign saw to it that the people of the Empire that did not serve it, but were forced to at the same time, were treated fairly, so long as they lay down their weapons and did not fight you." She looked Eragon square in the eye. "The stories say you even threatened your own men to see this done. Rylar is nothing different than one of those innocent civilians of the Empire, forced to aid outside their will. She has agreed to not fight in any way. I request, simply and humbly, that you treat her as you treated them."

Eragon looked down at her for a long time. For what seemed like a forever she looked at the foot of his throne.

"Very well," came the words finally. "Brom, Rylar was yours, in more ways than one I am lead to believe. She was your charge, then and now. Do with her what you will. She is not to leave this island and if she is to stay out of the dungeons, I want her under constant supervision. Even when the people of the Empire surrendered, I did that."

"Thank you, your Majesty."

"Rathon, Brom. Remove Echothain's hold."

Brom stepped forward, but Rathon did not. He leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed. All eyes went to him.

"She caused the death of Katelyn. It was her who stabbed her to death. And you would have me save her?"

"I would have you obey your king," Eragon replied.

"I will do this, but I will not do it of my free will." He pushed himself off the pillar with his right shoulder. "As far as I care, she can rot in the lowest cell in our dungeon."

Rathon gave very little effort to the task, allowing Brom to do the majority of the work. When they had finished he sat back down.

"Rathon," Eragon said.

"Sire?"

"I have orders for you. Pack up Leonis. You are to fly ahead of the five ships headed to Eoam. You will stop at Leonis Palace, long enough only to rid the Black Chamber fully and deal with the most urgent of needs. Then are to go to Eoam and oversee the finding of this Echothain. You are to leave Naydel behind at Leonis Palace, so that she might carry on in your stead while you are gone."

Rathon rose and dipped his head. "Yes, your Majesty."

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><p><strong>Forgive the long update time. This chapter was a dozy. <strong>


	27. The Door of Change Closes

**Because of all the changes going on in FanFiction right now I am unable to find the reviews for chapter 26. So I apologize if you had a specific question that could have been answered. I will simply thank you for your continuing support and understanding as I slowly update this story. **

**Now, moving along. **

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><p>Nayter's eyes slowly drifted open as her mind awoke from its deep sleep. Even as it did, her consciousness was assailed by the unidentifiable emotion that had been bombarding her for two days. After a long moment she sighed, and rolled over onto her back so she looked up to the ceiling and scanned her mind for what the source of the emotion was, and what it was to begin with. She knew what added to it.<p>

First, there was Rathon's departure for the island of Eoam the day before. But despite her expectations, his leaving was not what perturbed her. It was what she had felt as he had left. Nothing; absolutely and completely nothing. The previous times he had left and she had had no idea when he would return, her heart had ached for when next she would see him. But this time was different, for she felt nothing, either joy or sorrow.

Then there came her new position: Queen of the Dwarfs. BloodFire had, reluctantly, bonded with her and named her its new master. She raised her hand above her face to look on the red and orange ring on her middle finger. She watched as the lines of orange pulsed through the sea of red, fascinated. It was bizarre to her to think that a living spirit lived on her finger, much less one of such power. Aesire had explained to her that it was BloodFire that provided the base for the world of magic, down to the smallest of spells. It was hard for her to adjust to the knowledge that if she wanted something done, she but to call of BloodFire and it would be.

And lastly, and she thought most influentially, there was Brom. She felt her heart race as she thought of him. She put her hand over her forehead, rubbing at it. What was it about him that she found so attractive? Yes, his physical body was something that a girl would naturally gawk at. With his toned muscles, dark blue eyes, sculpted abs, tanned skin, and position and air of power and control, she often wondered how he got from one side of the palace to the other without being buried in a mountain of adoring girls. But there was something else. Something about him made her insides churn with need. Her very identity, what made her herself, felt as though it were reaching out to Brom, wanting nothing more than to be in his embrace.

Those three were tossed into a world wind of thoughts and emotions beyond her ability to even put a name to, much less get under control. For a while she just laid there, contemplating her feelings. Then she sat up and took a long breath. "You are a queen now. And that queen is going to need someone to take her to her new domain."

She rose and dressed herself in her finest dress. The garment was a flowing white dress with a ruddy orange flower on her left shoulder. She loved it for many reasons, one of which being that it hid her wolf tail from the world. She went to the doors of Katelyn's old chambers and stopped, her hand on the knob. She turned and looked back at the room. Above the bed there rested a mural, depicting Rathon, Katelyn and Brom standing on one of the highest points of the palace. Their dragons flew in the background and a smile was on each of their faces.

_Thank you, Katelyn. _She thought. _I will do well in your name. I will do everything in my power to see our people prosper, as you would have wished. I will make you proud of me._

She opened the door and was immediately confronted by a large set man with a bald head, but a beard three feet long. By his size alone, she deduced him to be a noble. Only the rich could afford so much food. Then she noticed all the rings on his fingers. She counted seven in total, three of which were on a single finger. That all but solidified her believe that this was a noble; no one else would be so vain.

The man, noticing her, dipped into a bow. "Your Highness," he said in a nearly intolerable voice. It was high pitched and as annoying as a swarm of bees to her wolf ears. "I have come to you today to offer my most sincere condolences for your loss."

"Thank you," she said simply. Her entire life she had tried to avoid the nobles. Now it was going to be near impossible.

"Might I remark on what a lovely dress you wear this morning? So bright and illuminating. And the flower! Such ingenious craftsmanship; this dress! You must tell me where you got it so I might buy one for my daughter, in hopes that she might one day resemble you."

"It was a gift from my mother," she said, touching the flower. In an effort to deter him she said, "It is tradition among our kind, to give a gift of beauty to our younglings when they reach the age to consume man's flesh. It helps to attract prey." Not a word of it was true, of course, excluding the first part of her mother giving it to her. But she grew tired of these pompous fools coming to her at every hour of the day.

The man swallowed, a lump in his fat neck bobbing. "Well, I…can only say what a marvelous kind your species is. So strong and high minded. Surely you must all be angels sent forth from the heavens because the gods could not stand their jealousy for you."

"Quite," she said. "I have often speculated the same. Now then, may I help you? I have many matters that I must attend to today and I haven't the time for chatter."

"Ah, straight to the point, as any good leader through history has been. Admirable trait, Queen Nayter, simply admirable." Her ears flicked. He had mispronounced her name.

"My name is Nayter, with a long e, so that it sounds as though you are saying Nay-tear, not Nay-tur. You mispronounced the name of someone you must have gone to some trouble tracking down. How peculiar."

A mortified expression crossed his face. Not out of fear, but out of the knowledge he had just lost all standing with her. He dipped into a bow, stepping back. "I…I…" Sweat beaded his brow as he racked his mind for some way to save the situation. Finding none, he seemed to switch to a backup plan. "I merely came to offer my condolences in this troubled time of yours, my Lady." With that he scurried away, practically waddling because of his size.

Nayter sighed. "Hopeless," she muttered. She turned to the entryway of the hall and her heart skipped a beat. Brom strode through the entrance, a cluster of people around him. He did not notice her; his eyes were running through the many papers the people around him held out to him. He stopped just beside the light of the outside and for nearly ten minutes he talked, nodded, wrote on paper, and gave instructions without seeing her.

Finally, as the last man went off to carry out Brom's order, he looked up and saw her. A smile spread on his lips. He spoke her name and that was all the encouragement she needed. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms. He caught her and spun her around, laughing all the while.

That inexplicable, irresistible urge came to her again: to be with him. The safety she felt in his arms; she had never felt it before, from anyone. Finally he set her down and looked into her eyes. As he did she felt as though she were free as a dragon. No one had ever made her forget about her wolf ears and tail. Now, standing there, she felt completely human. She wanted to give him all of herself.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Butterflies spawned in her stomach, her head felt light as the air, and her heart burned with passion. He bent her back as the kiss deepened. She pushed herself against him, wanting for him more than anything she had ever cared for. Then he pulled back and she was left to pant for air, her breath heavy with desire.

"Good morning," he said.

She laughed once. "I would be truly satisfied with my life if every day began like this."

"Gorgeous dress," he said, as she stood up once more.

"Thank you," she said, meaning it this time. She twirled once around, allowing the trimming at the bottom to swish around on the ground. She did not know what part of her passion induced youth compelled her next action, but it seemed right. She stopped, arched her neck, closed her eyes partially, ran a hand through her hair and lowered the front of her dress to almost bare the breast and said in the most seductive voice she could muster, "What's your favorite part?" It occurred to her that she did resembled Rylar, but that thought was quickly stamped out. After a long moment of thinking she thought, _I don't want to have Brom; I want to give myself to him._

Brom placed a hand over his chin in a contemplative pose. "My favorite part, huh? That is a tough one." He ran his eyes up and down her form several times, then closed them and said, "I think I've made my choice."

Wanting to give him a flare she asked, "And what do you think, my master?"

He opened his eyes and leveled them with hers. "Your ears."

That caught her by surprise. That was not even on the list of the responses she had expected. "Why?" she asked.

"Because they are yours." He stepped forward and took her hands into his. "You have no choice but to wear them, no choice but to let others see them, and no choice but allow them to affect your life. Yet despite of that, you live your life as anyone else would." He reached up and ran a hand down her cheek. "They are a representation of you and your bravery, that you will let no one else's opinions sway who you are. You are completely unique from ever other woman in the world because of that."

Nayter was speechless. She blinked once, twice, three times. In the span of only a moment he had taken her desire to make him want her and told her that he already did, but in a way far different than she had expected. He pulled into his embrace and stroked her hair. "Do you see; dear one? You don't have to be like every other girl who has approached me in the past. Nay, I would rather you be a thousand times different. It was by that difference that I saw you to begin with." After a moment she drew away from him and looked into his eyes; his sharp blue eyes.

"How is it that you know exactly what to say in order to disarm me?"

He placed the tip of his finger on her nose. "Love," he said. His response made her heart beat faster. "You have my eye, Nayter. You don't have to try to be like others. I promise. Do you trust me?"

"With everything I am," she said without hesitation.

He kissed her again. It was not a kiss of heat and passion, but of reassurance. Of the two she could not decide which one she loved more. It made her heart soar nonetheless.

"Then simply be you. I can honestly tell you that it is the greatest gift you can give me."

"I will," she said, then stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him once more.

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><p>A sudden jar in Leonis' flight woke Rathon. The unending beating of Leonis' wings forced him to come to full conscious. He stirred and rose, gripping the front of the saddle to pull him up. The ring on his finger, which pulsed with both white and black, reminded him that his two spirits were with him again. He took stock of his surroundings. There were none, as had been the case for every time he had awoken, but there was even less now, because of a thick fog that clogged the air. The waves below had lost all ability to wake him, for he had spent every waking moment of his early life within earshot of them. Wind racked at them as they floated above the seas.<p>

They flew, day in and day out, to the five islands of the south, pausing only to rest and deliver Naydel to Leonis Palace, that she might continue on in Rathon's stead. His task was of much more importance, but Man could not go much longer without a leader.

Rathon rubbed an eye and tapped Leonis' back. _Where are we? _He asked.

_Close to Eoam. In fact, we passed over one of the smaller islands only an hour ago. If it were not for this blasted fog I would not be surprised if we could see the city now._

Rathon looked around. Something, some unusual sound nagged at his hearing. It sounded like the hiss of the wind, the slushing of waves, and the discordant moans of old wood. Finally he said, "_What is that?_"

_Direct your gaze downward and your question will be answered. _Rathon leaned over to see below Leonis and his breath caught at what he saw. It took him a moment to even grasp what he saw.

A whirlpool, verging on a mile in diameter, swirled below them. Its size astounded him, for they flew near the center. From his vantage point he saw things no man on a boat would ever see and speak of again. The All Devouring Maw of the Ocean, the Boar's Eye, was near its full power. Almost vertical walls of water spun in endless rotations, with frothing foam gyrating almost ten miles in every direction around the sphere. Near the bottom he saw what remained of what must have been thousands of ships. Grand vessels that would have taken one's breath away now stood as little more than scraps of wood, soaked to the point of in usability and as green as the grass. It was this wood, grating against rocks by the force of the water that had produced the moans.

What he saw frightened him. It made him realize just how small he really was. He turned his gaze away, not wanting to think of how many the whirlpool had claimed. What made his heart ache was the suspicion that his tally might very well be higher.

_Leonis, _he said, to distract himself. _May I ask you something?_

_Always, Rathon._

_When we left, did you notice anything odd about Brom?_

_Only that he seemed distracted to an abnormal extreme by the human-body-wolf-ears. Other than that, no I did not. May I inquire as to why you ask me this?_

_Brom has never been one for eyeing women. Or at least as far as I know. It's bizarre that he would turn his eyes to Nayter._

_Why is that?_

_He has willing participants throwing themselves at him practically every day. I find it odd that of all of them, his eyes rest on Nayter._

_You speak with a hint of jealousy._

_I do not, _he said quickly. His eyes drifted back to the great eye of the whirlpool. _My heart is for Katelyn only._

_Little one, _he said softly. _Why do you persist?_

_She died in my arms, Leonis, _he said_. And do you know what her last words were;__ the phrase she uttered with her dying breath? I shall always love you. You ask me to tarnish that?_

_No, Rathon. Not to tarnish it. But to simply allow the memory of Katelyn to be a memory. She has passed from this world, yet you keep her here with your constant thoughts._

_She told me, that as long as I live she will never depart of this land. Those were her words, Leonis, not mine. I absolutely refuse to let her die in vain. This is not open to debate._

_All I ask of you, partner of my mind, is to allow her to rest in peace. Grant her leave of this realm of worries and cares and let her rest._

_That was not her wish, _he said, tightening his grip on his leg. _Her wish was to see the world and the order of the riders prosper. And I will see to it that her wish is fulfilled and that any that stand in my way are crushed into oblivion, _he said, conviction he had never had before in his heart.

Leonis' body crashed as he landed on the paved stone walkway of the city street. He looked about him. No one was in the streets except the king's solders. He dismounted Leonis and patted his shoulder. _I want you to go down to the harbor. Members of the Black Chamber will think twice about escape with you there._

_They will not have a chance to think a first time, _Leonis said as he launched himself off the ground and took off, quickly disappearing in the mist. Rathon pulled his hood over his face and went to a group of solders. They stood and bowed to him when they saw him.

"Your Highness," the captain said.

Rathon raised a hand and they stood. "Where is everyone?"

The man's eyes grew serious. "Three men we deduce were of the Black Chamber attempted to blow the island to smithereens, Sir. We only narrowly stopped them. I sent word back to the High King. Until then we thought it best to keep every civilian under house arrest, at least until you arrived, else we feared there would be more attacks."

"When was this attack?"

"Four days ago."

"And where are the men who attempted to complete it?"

"My best guess? They're rotting in hell. All three of them committed suicide by the knife before we could take them."

Rathon sighed. "A pity," he said. "They could have pointed me in the right direction." He crossed his arms and said, "Where is the governor of this province? I wish to speak to him about his tactical methods of obeying the High King's orders."

The man licked his lips and said, "He was among the three, my King."

That took Rathon by surprise. "Very well," he said. "How many men do you have here?"

"Two hundred and seventy, at your disposal, my King."

"Station a hundred and twenty at every point were a boat might set sail, three per piece if you can manage it. Ignore the harbor; I have my own reliable sources guarding it. The rest of your men I want to round up every man, woman and child and bring them to the town hall for questioning. Attendance to this is mandatory and any who refuse are to be treated as hostiles captured under the banner of war. They are to be taken to me immediately, with the use of deadly force if required. Is that understood?"

The man clapped a hand to his chest. "Aye, Sir!"

Rathon leaned forward and said, "And you have absolutely no knowledge of the whereabouts of this man?"

The woman before him shook her head. "No, your Majesty. I don't know nothing about this man, nor about where he might be hidden."

Rathon sighed in irritation. "Alright. Be on your way." The woman performed possibly the clumsiest curtsy he had ever seen and left. He dipped a quill tip in ink and scribbled a mark by the lady's name, calling, "Send in the next one."

The door opened and closed and a man sat down at the chair in front of him. He was dressed in black riding clothing that looked fresh. Dirt clung to him, however and a thin scar ran down his right hand. A ring was on his third finger with a white insignia upon it.

Rathon put his quill down and said, "Have you been traveling? You were the clothes of someone who is."

"Is not the body more than clothes upon it," the man replied.

"It is, but the actions a man takes to provide comfort to himself are not. And as someone who wares ridding gear on a regular basis I can say first hand that it is hardly comfortable for day to day use. So you doubtfully put these clothes on in the intention of comfort. Now answer the question again, but use your brain this time. I am hardly in the mood for pandering word plays. Have you been traveling?"

The man rested one leg on top of the other. "Yes I have. And what would it matter if I did? Is that illegal now, to go from one place to another?"

"Depends. This island has been locked away from newcomers for the past week, removing all likelihood that you came from the mainland. And, to top that off, I'm informed that all civilians have been under house arrest for four days, meaning that you have about a two day window to be from this island and have a legal reason to be traveling."

"Who's to say I'm not? Perhaps I simply put on these clothes five days ago and have worn them since."

"Then explain how your skin wears dirt but the clothes do not." That stopped the man. Rathon dipped his quill in ink. "Shall we start over?" The man was silent. "What is your name?"

The man breathed heavily through his nose. "I am an honest farmer who works the earth for a living. Isaac."

"Free piece of information for you, Isaac. When a member of royalty asks for your name, give the full one."

"Isaac Dellson."

Rathon reached for the parchment, and then stopped. He sighed, put his quill down and leaned back in the chair. "You know, I'd be inclined to believe you if Isaac Dellson had not come in an hour ago. I remember his face. He had a child with him, hardly more than a month old. And I would bet my favorite sword that someone who knew the man well enough to impersonate him would be a close friend." Rathon took off his ring and twisted it around with his first two fingers and his thumb. "So, what would compel an honest farmer to impersonate a friend." He placed the ring on the table with a _thunk_. "ShadowLight: one of the three Great Spells. It can kill you in more ways than there are stars in the nighttime sky, only at my behest, my friend. I suggest you be honest from here on in. What is your name?"

The man's nostrils flared, sweet beaded his brow and his pupils were dilated with a combination of hatred and fear. His head trembled from how tightly he was holding himself. "My name," he said through clenched teeth, "Is the wailing of a baby at night because it is hungry. My name is the farmer who must toil the earth so you can relax in comfort. My name is every starving boy who cries out for water and watches you toss it back into the sea. My name is Justice. My name is Retribution. My name is Peace. My name is the White, the Clean and the Pure."

Rathon had no doubts now. "Is that what you call yourselves now? The White Chamber?"

A disgusted look crossed the man's face. "It was you who named us that. You who stained us with that title."

"You don't need help with that," he said, shaking his head. "But I do," he said, opening his eyes and leveling them with his. "There is a man: Echothain. I need to know where he is."

A contorted smile spread on his lips. "You haven't even a clue of what you speak of. You call him a man. He is a God. A Savior to the people of this world, come down from his high throne in the heavens to release us from the tyranny of Eragon the Foul."

_This man is insane, _he thought. "Where is he?" He said, separating every word with a pause.

The man sighed a laugh and shook his head, his eyes glistening. "I feel sorry for you, son of Eragon, that you must bear the name of your father. Kneel to Echothain and he will lift your every burden."

"I will first need to know where he is in order to do that."

The shook his head. "I don't need to tell you. He stands right behind you."

Rathon spun around, reaching for a knife. Just as he did the man's eyes went ablaze and he leapt for ShadowLight. Rathon's knife sunk into his flesh without mercy. The man chocked and fell down on the table, blood dripping onto the floor.

Rathon turned his head away from the grotesque scent of fresh gore. He looked behind where he had been sitting. A mural of landscape was all that stood behind him. Two men burst into the room, swords drawn. They saw him and stopped. Rathon left the knife in the body.

"Get it out of here," he said. When they hesitated he shouted, "Now!" The captain came in as the men carried the body out. Rathon was sitting at the chair behind the table, starring down at ShadowLight. _Why do you curse me with this? _

"Are you alright, my Lord?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," he said. "Send in the next one."

"My Lord, perhaps it is time we should take a break…"

"There is no time for breaks!" He yelled. He stood so fast the chair fell back. "The country is on the verge of collapse, thousands are dead and you want me to take a break? Send in the next civilian and mind your duties before I chalk you up and flog you a thousand times for your insolent insubordination!" The man dipped his head and the door closed. Rathon gripped at his head, trying to control his turbulent emotions. _And once more my hand is stained red! _The door opened and closed softly. He composed himself, straightened his hair, slipped on the ring of ShadowLight and looked up.

An old man stood before him. He leaned against a staff with a knotted head. His silver hair tumbled down his shoulders and back in unruly masses. A beard that stretched to the man's thin waist twitched as he moved. His eyes were pearly white, blind.

"Sit," he said.

"F-Forgive me, Lord, but I know not where to be seated. My vision is regrettably impaired," the man replied. His voice sounded old. Rathon helped him to the seat and he rested the staff over his legs. "Thank you, Sire."

"What is the name of one so old?" he asked as he sat.

"Nazmenra," he replied. "Nazmenra Aielvar."

"Sounds like an Elvish name," he commented as he scanned the list of names. "Thank you," he said, when he found it. He put the quill back on the table, relieved to not have to deal with another blatant liar before him. "Now then, I wish to ask you…" he stopped. The man had his hand, palm outstretched, in front of his face. The man's own face was heavy with sorrow, as was his voice.

"I am so sorry, Child" he said. He sounded on the borderline of tears.

"For what?" Rathon said, confused and astonished.

"You have suffered a great loss in previous days, the loss of something tremendously dear to you. A friend."

What he said struck at Rathon's very core. The news of Katelyn's death was publicly known, but it could not have reached this man. Eoam was locked away from the world. No one who knew of it would be able to enter and inform the man. How then did he know? He decided that whether it was a trick of magic or some fluke of luck was irrelevant. He would be proven right sooner or later, so why deny it? "Yes, well," he said. "We all suffer loses at one time or another. By your age, I would assume you have suffered many in your day."

The man's eyebrows came together in pity. He raised out his hands and said, "Indeed I have." Rathon returned his eyes to the papers, but looked back up when the man said, "But." The man ran his hand down his beard. "What if I were to tell you that I can revert that loss and give life back to your friend?"

Rathon's heart skipped a beat. He forced calm over himself and leaned back in his chair. The wood creaked as he tipped back. He looked down his nose at the man. "Then I would say that you have my attention."

* * *

><p><strong>There is probably not, in any of my stories, been a chapter that I was more satisfied with then this one. Just chucking that out there. <strong>

**I hope all the pieces to this puzzle are starting to come together into a cohesive whole. **


	28. The Sealing of Doom

**Funnelwebs: :) Not gonna spoil. **

**Owltalon: :) I do as well. That was one of those last minute decision things that ended up making a lot of sense and over all made for a better story. As for Rathon, give about three chapters to make sense. The next three are going to be pretty plot packed. So if it doesn't make sense by then, tell me and I will do what I can. I know this whole, "it will be addressed" crap must be getting old by now. :)**

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><p>Rathon drew his sword, sweat coating his brow. He knew he had heard something. He stepped tentatively over the fallen branches and large rocks, using his left hand to guide him to allow his sword arm and his eyes to focus on whatever was out there.<p>

He followed the old man, Nazmenra, through the forests. How the old man managed to find his way through the woods with his blindness Rathon did not know.

They had left the town hall only minutes after Nazmenra had given Rathon the breath of hope he had longed for. Rathon had given the captain orders that all unquestioned civilians were to continue to be held in confinement until his return. Then he had set out with Nazmenra. He did not trust the man; he didn't trust anyone on that island. But the concept, the hope, that Katelyn could be raised was too enticing for him to pass up.

Finally, as the man stepped over a patch of sharp rocks, Rathon stopped. "That does it. Explain yourself! How is it you walk these woods while you are blind?"

The man turned and looked back at him with his pall, empty eyes. "I have walked this island for many years, Rathon son of Eragon. In my youth, when my eyes were as good as yours, I wandered these woods in my spare time. Now, decades later, I have them all but memorized, especially the tricky patches of ground that once gave me a cut leg or a scrapped arm."

Rathon licked his lips as the howl he had heard echoed through the forest once more. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Dear Prince, we have been walking for no more than ten minutes."

"And that's ten minutes more than I think I should be investing into this," he growled in retort.

Nazmenra shrugged. "To each his own, Your Majesty. If your love for your fallen friend is so feeble a walk in the woods is sufficient to overcome it, then this path is too powerful for you to begin with."

His words, and more over the suggestion behind them, infuriated Rathon. He staggered down the hill and placed the edge of his sword against the man's neck. "Choose your words with more care," he said in a low, threatening voice. "I would do anything for her."

The man raised his eyebrows briefly. "Then let us move on. We're nearly there."

Rathon held the sword there for a moment, letting the power of it infuse him, and then lowered it. "Lead on," he said.

Nazmenra turned and made his way up the steep cliff that stood before them. For another ten minutes they went, over rocks twice Leonis' size to bare patches of ground that looked burnt by acid.

Nazmenra stopped. They stood in an open field that stretched twenty feet at best. Trees hung in all directions, draping their greenery below them. Nazmenra tapped his staff against a small white rock. The sound reverberated through the air. Again he struck the rock. The air around Rathon shivered. A third time Nazmenra beat the rock with the end of his staff and he called out, "Come forth, ye magic of power! Heed the call of your servant and before him!"

Rathon felt every emotion drain from him, almost as though he had called on Shadow. He gripped his heart as all feelings ran from him as though in fear. Rathon called out in his mind for ShadowLight, but it did not heed his commands. He looked up as a light of dark blue eliminated the field. He looked up and gapped as he beheld a sphere, a perfect hole in the word, shimmering of dark sapphire and seeming to change in size at every moment. Its raw power was what had been agitating the air.

"A spirit," Nazmenra said, "of the three Spells themselves. In this, you will find the power to raise your friend." He knelt to the orb.

A voice spoke in his mind and in his ear. _"Why have I been called from my slumber? Am I __a __dog to come forth for any who summon me?" _The voice was heavy with power, so heavy Rathon felt the weight of it on his lungs. Despite its power, it seemed tired.

"This child, this bearer of the mighty ShadowLight, has requested your aid, Grand One."

The orb shot to Rathon faster than his eye could follow and hovered over him. It seemed to inspect him, flitting from his head to his legs, and finally resting on his finger where ShadowLight lay.

"_How did one so young come to possess it?"_

"It was given to him by its previous owner," Nazmenra replied.

The orb continued to inspect him. Finally it said to Rathon, _"What is your desire?"_

All that was happening had taken Rathon's power of speech. It was happening so quickly he couldn't find his tongue. So he resorted to calling on his training with Zodion. He thought his words and using the strength of his limbs he projected them out into the world. Because it was his mind and not his voice the words were not hindered by distance and the weakness of his voice. They echoed like the roar of a lion. _"I have but one desire. To see my love, Katelyn who is the daughter of Roran Stronghammer and Katrina, rise from the dead."_

For a long while, the voice did not reply. Its silence carried out for so long Rathon grew fearfully that it thought he was jesting and waiting for him to declare his real wish.

Then, it spoke. _"Though the task is possible, the price of resurrection is a steep one." _The words sounded like a warning.

"_I will pay what price is needed. I will do whatever is required," _he responded with conviction. He meant the words. He would do what was necessary.

The silence ensued, until the voice addressed Nazmenra. _"Is this boy a waste of my time?"_

Rathon's breath caught at the question. Nazmenra dipped his head almost until it touched the ground. "No force on Heaven or Earth could waste the time of one as mighty as you. But no, he means the words that he speaks."

Rathon sighed in relief, and then stiffened as he felt something like an eye turned to him. A probe of insurmountable power, pushed at his mind. They brushed past his defenses without even acknowledging their existence. Rathon gritted his teeth and dug his fingernails into his palms as he fought off the sensation.

The mind, or whatever it was, scanned his experiences, from the day he was born to the present day, with blistering speed. Rathon had no chance at even attempting to hide anything. The spirit ran through his mind like an elf, traversing years of learning and challenges in the span of seconds. Finally, it halted at his order, his command to the men of the Black Chamber to fall to deaths embrace. It withdrew.

"_Your words," _it said. _"They ring true. He has __the __steel to take lives at a moment's instinct. That is rare." _The orb moved over him, until it hovered inches before his face. "_This task will not be an easy one. By its nature_,_ people will rebel against it. They will hate you, despise you, and seek to stop you no matter the cost. For a mortal to be given the power of the gods, no matter how briefly, will cause an uproar to be the match of no other. And this is exactly that, Rathon. The power of the gods. I can grant any wish, but for one of the caliber you demand, I require something. A power I once had but have since slipped away from me."_

"_Name it," _Rathon said.

"_I require the power you refer to as LunarMist."_

That took Rathon by surprise. He racked his mind, seeking for the answer to his question: why? He could think of nothing so he posed the question.

"_Your fortitude is as solid as milk," _it remarked. _"I require the Godly Contract that is the power of LunarMist alone."_

"_The Godly Contract?"_

"_LunarMist's one great power. Each of the Spells have one that is unique to them. ShadowLight_,_ the power to reach forward and backward into time, changing anything at will. BloodFire_,_ the power to amplify or destroy any form of Magic, in any shape or style. And LunarMist_,_ the power to have anything you desire, in exchange for something."_

"_And what would that something be?"_

"_That is the part that makes this task difficult, Rathon Eragonsson."_

Rathon swallowed. Who knew what the price of LunarMist would be? He only knew of one pretext to go by, when Aesire had used it to seal away Galbatorix. And in exchange, he had offered up his command of LunarMist itself. As the master of ShadowLight, he knew what that must have been like, to sacrifice that much power.

"_Brom will not agree." _He knew that for a fact. The art of resurrection was forbidden in the Riders' order, and Brom observed them more religiously than anyone, even Eragon.

"_Then make him," _the spirit replied. What it was suggesting astounded Rathon.

"_I could never use deadly force on my brother!"_

"_Odd," _it replied. _"And here I recall you saying you would do anything that was required." _It turned to Nazmenra. _"Nazmenra, return me to my sleep. We are done here."_

"_Wait!" _He called. The spirit paused. _"I will do it if it is required. But I will only resort to it when all other paths are failed."_

A long pause followed. _"If that be the case, get him to meet you away from the Riders. In your palace, so that he will not have the weight of nations on his shoulders when he responses. I am a tired soul, Rathon. I wish only to sleep and I have come here only at the behest of my servant Nazmenra. Do not render my waking meaningless. I take such intrusions offensively. I require only LunarMist and I may grant your wish. Bring it back to me and I will raise your fallen love. Do not, and I shall kill you."_

The air vibrated and the orb shrunk and exploded outward, flying out across the sky at speeds Rathon could not even fathom a guess. Nazmenra stood, his eyes blank as ever.

"Now you have seen that I spoke the truth, Sire."

"Yes," Rathon said his voice like steel.

The man cocked his head. "Your Majesty, what is the matter?"

"I am preparing myself for what must come. Brom will not accept. And I will fight him: to the death."

* * *

><p>The bright evening rays of sun warmed Brom's back pleasantly. He wanted so much not to move, but the hour drew near.<p>

He turned over onto his other side and smiled as he saw Nayter, cast in golden light. Her ears flicked occasionally. Her entire body was cast in the golden rays. Even as he watched her, her blue eyes flickered open.

"Good morning," he said.

She raised her arms above her head and stretched. "Good morning," she replied. For a while they simply looked into each other's eyes.

"We must be leaving soon," he said. "The kingdoms need leaders. Have you found a Rider to take you to the Beors?"

Nayter slid to the edge of the bed and yawned. The tip of her tail quivered as she did. "Yes. A young elf girl named Alay'dryil."

"Ah, yes, I know her," he said, an image of the young rider coming to mind. He stood and straightened his tunic and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt Nayter wrap her arms around him from behind. He smiled softly. "We will see each other again," he reassured her. "I promise you."

"But what if we don't," she said. "Katelyn…" she trailed off.

"Died in the embrace of what she spent her life doing: bettering the world. And I envy the peace I saw in her eyes as she drew her last breath." He turned to her and she looked up at him, resembling a frightened puppy. "Our paths will cross again, I swear it. When, where, and why I do not know. All I know for sure is that our lives together are far from over." He kissed her forehead.

"Lord LunarMist!" The voice called from beyond the door. Nayter withdrew and hid herself in a dark corner. Brom was relatively uncomfortable with allowing anyone and everyone to see the lord of elves and the queen of the dwarfs together like that, at least for the time being. Nayter had no problem hiding; it was in her blood.

"Enter," he said. The door swung open and Brom saw a squad of five riders. "What is it?" he asked.

"The High King Eragon," one of the men said, "requests an audience with you."

"Of course. Inform him I will be before him shortly."

"Have you an idea where Lady BloodFire is," another asked. "She is not in her chambers and we have searched far and wide and yet cannot find her."

"Put your heart at ease. I know where she is. Go now, tell the king what I have told you."

They bowed and departed. Brom closed the doors and said, "We should be off. Eragon must be getting anxious for us to leave."

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><p>Brom pushed open the doors to his father's throne hall, walking over the same ground he had traversed since he was old enough to crawl. Eragon stood before a table, leaning over it and running a hand over a map. Aesire stood on the opposite side, his arms crossed, inspecting it.<p>

"Your Majesty," Brom said. Eragon looked up just long enough to look at him, and then returned his eyes to the map, gesturing at them to join him.

Brom stepped up beside them and looked down at the map. It was a standard map of Alagaesia. On it were sixteen red marks, indicating were the Black Chamber had struck. On Vroengard there rested two blue dots.

"I have my hands full," Eragon said. "Fighting a rebellion is hard; cleaning up after one is mind numbing." He licked his lips and said, "And here you are, on Vroengard, relaxing."

"Zacaid is ready to take flight, my Liege."

"Good. You have not yet left," Aesire commented.

Eragon met Brom's eye, and for perhaps the first time, he saw in his father's eye, fear. Brom had been at Eragon's side since he turned ten, watching his father fight the Black Chamber. He had witnessed his father be told of murders, rapes and torture. He had seen his father order a man to be beheaded for a crime of violent atrocity. And he had never seen Eragon be fearful.

It made him fearful just to think of it.

"What has happened, Father?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"I fear I have made a grievous mistake, my son."

"Why?"

Eragon placed a hand over one of the dots in Ellesmera. "Do you know what these red dots are?"

"They indicate were the Black Chamber struck."

Eragon slid his finger to Vroengard. "And these blue dots? Do you know what they are for?"

"No, Father."

Eragon rubbed his forehead. "They are the locations of the bearers of the Spells." Brom scanned the entire map with a sharp eye, looking for the third dot that would be Rathon. He found none. "And now you see why I am fearful," Eragon said.

"Where is he?"

"I do not know. Every attempt I make to scry him ends in a black void."

"Eragon," Aesire said. "Rathon holds the power to step through time and space. He used it to get out of Ilirea when the Black Chamber attacked it. Hours passed before he stepped back. Perhaps he is doing that now."

"Rathon," Eragon said, sighing, "is hesitant, to say the least, about using ShadowLight's power. He would not have used it without just cause. All I sent him to do was find Echothain."

"Perhaps he did." Aesire said.

"Then why hasn't he contacted me? He should have been there by now."

"I don't know why you are fretting so much. Maybe he only just now found Echothain."

Eragon locked eyes with him. "You, of all people Aesire, should know why I am fretting. You were with me when…" he stopped and looked about. "When he said it."

Aesire's eyes narrowed. Despite his words, Brom knew that meant his master was considering the possibility of something. "Eragon that is ridiculous."

Eragon ignored him. "If it is true, then we must…" he was cut off by Nayter saying, "Look!"

Brom looked to where she pointed and sighed in relief. On the island of Beirland, there glowed a blue dot. The dot blinked once and then began to inch off the island in the direction of Ilirea. Eragon frowned.

"Eragon," Aesire said, warningly.

"No, Aesire," he replied. "Brom," he said, gesturing.

"Sire."

Eragon placed a finger on the blue dot. "Rathon, whether with victory or success, was to return to Vroengard, so that he might question Rylar. Yet, he is going to Ilirea." Eragon looked up at Brom, his fear gone. Replacing it was iron determination. "Something is amiss with Rathon. Be there before him in Ilirea. Question him. Bring him back here. I must speak with him. Be prepared to use force."

His words surprised Brom, but he clapped a fist to his breast and said, "Yes, sire."

* * *

><p>The hall doors slammed shut behind Brom and Nayter. Eragon put his face in his hands and sighed. Aesire watched him, guessing at what he was thinking by the way he moved and acted.<p>

"What'd you think," Eragon finally asked.

"Truthfully," Aesire said, "I believe we have come to the moment Galbatorix, or whatever it was, spoke of. Too many coincidences. The Black Chamber. Rathon disappearing and then defying an open order. I think…"

"I get it," Eragon said. He ran his fingers down his face, looking off into the distance, visions of the past dancing over the back drop of his eyes. "Is there nothing we can do?"

"That's exactly the problem, Eragon. We can do anything." Eragon looked up at him from his seat. Before being prompted, Aesire explained. "Who is there that can affect the situation more than the two of us? I, who have seen it; you, who have been told of it. We can affect the outcome more than anyone. The problem is that prophecies are slippery in the extreme. The problem is, the road that you take to avoid a prophecy being fulfilled, more often than not ends up being the road that takes you directly to it." Aesire reached up and cracked his knuckles. Even though the point had been taken, he finished. "We can affect it, but the fact of the matter is: we don't know what to do. Our action or our inaction may lead to it."

"So our best course of action is to…" Eragon said.

"I hate to say it, but our best course of action is no course at all. If we attempt to change things anymore…" he shook his head. "Who knows how worse things will be. If we act, it will do more harm before all is said and done than if we don't."

"I never wanted any of this, Aesire," Eragon said, leaning back in his seat.

"Yet it has all been given to you. There is nothing more that you can do other than handle it when it occurs."

"Sitting here and doing nothing, though. It feels like I'm waiting for a battle to begin."

"It is not our battle that we await. It is theirs."

Eragon closed his eyes and the vision once more played through his mind; the vision that had plagued him all those years ago. The vision brought on by attacking whatever was in Galbatorix during the final battle.

_For one day I shall send your own creation out to destroy you._

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><p><strong>The next chapter has been, and I mean this next word, <strong>_**long**_** time in coming. **


	29. Brothers Clash and Spells Collide

**adamln: :) Always happy to add another person to the party. You came in at a strange place for a new reader, but since you've done your homework and read through the other two you should be right off. :)**

**Elemental Dragon Slayer: I won't comment on the quality of Rathon's changing, but as hopefully many have seen, yes he is changing. :)**

**Owltalon: :( I'm sad, because there's nothing in your review I can reply to that wouldn't take away from the plot. :) So I will simply thank you for the review. **

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><p><em>Something is wrong<em>, Brom thought. _Something is terribly wrong_. He had never felt such awful, raw anger coming from anything, let alone his brother. Just to feel it made him want to throw up. "Get everyone away from here," he told Naydel, who stood beside him.

She looked at him quizzically. "Why?"

Brom kept his gaze in the sky, where the crimson mass of Leonis lowered for a landing." Just do it," he said. _For their sake._

Naydel began shepherding the people away. Many noblemen left with a level of angry reluctance that would end nations, Brom thought. Soon all were away from the platform. Naydel, however, stayed.

"What is it?" she asked. When he made no reply, she said, "Lord LunarMist, may I remind you that you stand on ground that is the sovereign property of the race of man. You have no right to ignore my questions."

"That is not Rathon up there," Brom said. He wished to avoid scaring her.

Naydel scowled at him. "Then who is it? Who else would be flying Leonis?"

Leonis, his wings creating a wind storm on the landing platform below, landed with a boom. Brom, as the sound reverberated, said, "You would not understand. I fear even I might not."

Rathon, dressed in his usual flying clothes of white and black, climbed down from his dragon's shoulders. He patted Leonis on the leg and then turned and saw Brom. Surprise gave way to a pleased look, which then turned to outright contempt. The left side of Rathon's lips curved up in a grin. He raised his arms out to either side. "Dearest Brother," he said. The malice in his voice made Brom yearn to reach for his blade. Only by the reinforcement of LunarMist did he avoid doing that. Each step that Rathon took towards him chipped at that control until he finally could it back no more and he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. When Rathon stopped in front of him he bowed and said, "Whatever are you doing in these parts, Brother? I would have sworn coins that you'd be heading back to Ellesmera."

"The King sent me to…retrieve you, Rathon." He gave his brother a warning look. "You were meant to return to Vroengard after you left Eoam."

"And I would have, I assure you," Rathon replied.

"Then why did you not?"

Rathon looked ready to answer, but then stopped and turned to Naydel. "Naydel, would you be so kind as to see that a feast is prepared. We shall honor our guest as the king he is."

"That will not be necessary," Brom said, stopping Naydel. "We will return to Vroengard immediately."

"Dear Brother," Rathon said with more finesse than Brom had ever heard from any manipulative noble. "I implore you to think with reason. Leonis has been on his wings, flying over turbulent seas time and time again over the past two weeks. He flew to Vroengard, and then back when the Black Chamber attacked this palace, then he fought a battle. Then, given only a short while to recuperate, he was sent to fly the length of Alagaesia over the ocean, which he managed only taking two stops to rest. He has just flown me back and he is exhausted. He cannot stand another trip to Vroengard and back. Surely I can give my report over scrying pool."

"The King," Brom asserted. "Insists that you give it face to face. His will is not to be denied."

Rathon licked his lips and said, "As you wish, Brother. But will you at least give my dragon until the morning to sleep?" Brom eyes narrowed. "It will ill serve the king's will if Leonis losses the strength to fly in the middle of the ocean," Rathon said.

"Fine," Brom said, waving his hand throw the air. "But we depart the moment the sun kisses the horizon tomorrow."

Rathon dipped into the most gracious bow Brom had ever seen. "Agreed." He turned to Leonis and said, "You must go now and do what you can to recuperate, Leonis. Eat, drink and sleep before the morn tomorrow. Naydel, would you see to his accommodation?"

Naydel dipped her head. "Yes, sire." When her eyes came back up, Brom could see in them the beginning signs of fear. She had seen the change in Rathon.

_Tread carefully_, he thought as she walked away.

"Come, Brother," Rathon said. "I have a private room that we may talk in without interruption. You may as well know what I found in Eoam."

Brom felt uneasy about going into some unknown, unaccompanied location with Rathon. But not going would cause more damage than good. He fell in behind Rathon, for he had already begun walking. Rathon led Brom into Leonis Palace. Despite himself the grand structure impressed Brom. He came from a world in which to find a building not made of the trees or natural world was a rarity.

After around twenty minutes of walking up and down stairs, through corridors and chambers, through kitchens and libraries, Rathon and Brom stopped before the doors of Rathon's room. Rathon stopped beside and told the guard, "Bring me and my brother a feast fit for the kings that we are." The guard bowed and trotted off. Rathon gestured with his hand and the doors opened.

Before Brom was a room that looked nothing like a throne room. Cushioned chairs and padded couches filled most of it. A desk that stretched fifteen feet was heavy laden with papers, documents, charts, maps, and gallons of ink from Rathon's absence. Near the center of the room was the throne, a pitch black, ornately designed chair resting on a pedestal the color of clouds.

"Your country has needed you," Brom said, glancing over the table of documents, recognizing many as documents awaiting the king's approval.

"Yes, well, Naydel has done fine in the past days of my leave." Rathon plopped down in a couch and propped his arms over the back. "Even if she hadn't, their king has returned to them now."

"What a short while they shall have him, I'm afraid," Brom said. He still felt that Rathon was not completely himself. Something had happened, he knew it. Something about him seemed horribly wrong.

"Indeed," Rathon said, taking a draft from a goblet that rested on a side table. He grimaced, spat out the liquid and shouted, "Guard!" The door opened and two men stepped in and bowed. "Get me something fresh to drink. This ale must be a fortnight old."

The man left momentarily and then reappeared, holding a small barrel which he poured into a mug and handed to Rathon. As he sipped he saw Brom's questioning glance and said, "They are allowed to keep their own whiskey down here, so that they aren't always trundling about above in the kitchens and not down here, doing their job, guarding me."

"What good will drunk men do you?"

"What would pose more threat to an attacker, Brother? A man, slightly off balance or empty air?"

Brom did not answer. The guard offered him ale, but he turned it down. He wanted a clear head.

"Leave us," Rathon said as he put his mug down and the man departed, bowing as he went. Rathon smiled on one side of his mouth and said, "Amazing what little men will do for their master, isn't it? I never tell them to bow, yet their gaze is always directed down."

"It's because they are loyal to you, Rathon," he said. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together, his face serious. He was ready for answers. Rathon looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "What happened at Eoam? Did you find Echothain, and if so, why did you not return with him?"

Rathon looked up at the ceiling. His grin widened and he said, "Nay, Brother, I did not discover our clandestine enemy."

The way Rathon had answered had triggered Brom's curiosity. "What did you find?"

"Indeed something of far more value." Rathon said, and stood. He took his mug and went to stand by the window, looking out at the city. Despite how many stairs Brom remembered going down, they were still high above the ground. "The secret," he said, his voice a whisper.

"What could be of more value than making the man that killed thousands pay for his crimes?" As soon as the words were out he knew they were the wrong ones. Rathon's smile wilted and he looked back at Brom, his eyes dark.

"Then am I to be brought to justice? The palm of my hand is stained red. Is there no act that justifies murder?"

"There is a difference between murder and killing, Rathon."

"Is there? Both are the act of taking a life."

"What you did is different than what Echothain has done. You did it to defend the rights of others. Echothain did it to deny them that right."

A clang went through the room as Rathon set the mug down. "You would punish Echothain for the act of taking a life for selfish reasons?"

"Aye, I would," he said, without hesitation.

"Why, then, did you keep your hand down before Rylar? She took Katelyn's life because she wanted to. She herself confessed to acting of her free will on occasion. Who is to say one such occasion was the act of killing Katelyn?"

"That is not for us to decide."

"But it is for us to discover. If Rylar had been left to her own devices, what are the odds of her confessing, without provocation?"

"Rathon, had she not intended to profess her ways than she never would have allowed Aesire into her mind. Think logically."

"Perhaps it is not I who is thinking in the clouds," he said, so low Brom did not catch what he said.

"What?"

Rathon turned to him. His eyes had grown dark, but a glitter of triumph shimmered in them. He picked up the mug and twisted it slowly in his palm. "I said, perhaps I am the one who thinks logically."

"What do you…"

"It is good that you have come, Brother. Good that you have followed as I have led you. Your being here was of my design."

Brom placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Rathon, what are you talking about?"

"He said all I had to do was return here and you would come. I honestly didn't expect that would work; but he had proved me wrong once before. And now you are here, and we can talk about what we can do for one other."

That was it. Brom stood and drew his sword. Almost as soon as he stood, Rathon had raised his hand and there came a crack from Brom's sword, and it screeched over itself, bending and compressing until it was nothing more than a hunk of steel on a hilt. Then, by some unseen force, the remains of the sword grew heavier, so heavy that Brom dropped it, for fear that it was dislocate his shoulder.

"There's no need for weapons here, Brom. They would hardly do you any good to begin with."

Brom took a step back turned, ready to run, and the second he did the door behind him locked shut. He turned back and saw Rathon rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "When will you learn," he said. "Relax," he sighed. "I simply wish to speak with you in an environment that you acknowledge your superior in."

"Rathon, what is this?"

"Exactly what I wish it to be. Sit." The word struck Brom down into a chair. Rathon grinned. "I found it, Brother. I found a way."

"Away to do what?"

"To raise Katelyn from the dead."

Brom gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles were white. "Rathon, that is absurd! The magic would kill you!"

"No, it wouldn't Brom."

Frustrated Brom said, "Explain then, if that is even possible."

"On the island," Rathon said. "I met a man. Crotchety old thing named Nazmenra. He took me out of the city into the forest. We went so far out I began to think it was a trick. Then it appeared. A spirit!" Rathon put a hand to his head. "A spirit of the three spells themselves. At first I didn't believe it. How could a spell have a spirit, I thought? Then it spoke inside of me. It was sentient, Brom. And not just like the spells. Not just able to understand what is going on around it, but with the wisdom and power to affect it. That got me thinking. Perhaps the spells are just the power of this spirit, and the spirit itself is like the brain, telling them how to act. And oh, if only you could hear its voice. It was like a raging thunderstorm. It told me, that it could grant any wish I desired. I told it all I wanted was for Katelyn to live again." His eyes grew shadier. "And it told me…that it required the power of LunarMist, and the Godly Contract to resurrect someone."

Brom's mind raced. He had read the book of LunarMist, cover to cover, hundreds of times over. He knew of the Godly Contract. To attain the power of the gods, to do anything you wanted, in exchange for something that made you what you are. To use it was to accept extreme risk, for the magic of LunarMist did not find equivalence in what you offer and what it was giving, it would take more.

Brom's eyes darkened as he scowled at Rathon. "And so you tricked me into coming here, so that you could take LunarMist from me?"

"No, I came here to bring you the news and to take you to the island so that you might be there when Katelyn rises." Brom understood now. The idea of Brom refusing had not even made it into Rathon's mind.

Brom rose slowly. "Let me make this abundantly clear, my Brother. I will not help you in this. It deprives every moral the Riders stand on. Raising the dead. How could even think of such a thing! I will have nothing to do with it!" He said, throwing his arm through the air. "And with the gods as my witnesses, I will stop you from doing something so abominable!"

Rathon looked at him with an astonished expression. Then his eyes flashed. The pupil stretched until it was like a snake's and they turned yellow. His voice depended and he said, "Brother, I humbly advice you not to stand in my way." They returned to normal.

Brom, accepting the situation, lowered his hand and the ring of LunarMist stretched across his arm. Almost immediately Rathon had down the same.

His face was grave as he said, "Do you think this wise, Brother? I will not be stopped."

"You are mad, Rathon. You were driven insane with the death of Katelyn. Perhaps Father was foolish to put our term at five years. I wonder if you ever could be made less weak."

Rathon's eye lit with rage. "I am not weak!" He lunged at Brom, raising his arm cloaked with ShadowLight to strike. Brom raised his arm to defend himself, and then jumped back as fast as he could.

_No_, he thought. _I can't let ShadowLight and LunarMist touch in combat._

"What's wrong?" Rathon growled. "Are you afraid to defend yourself with LunarMist? Afraid of what might happen?" He lunged at Brom again, swinging ShadowLight as though it were a sword. "Well I'm not!"

Brom backed up frantically. When he did he pulled back LunarMist. "Rathon, are you mad! Do you have the slightest idea what will happen if any of the spells meet in combat? It would be the end of the world as we know it!"

"And what of it, Brother? I don't want to live in a world were Katelyn can be brought back and we deny the opportunity! I have no use for you other than LunarMist! So give it to me and I might just spare you!"

"Never!"

Rathon slashed the air. "You are the weak one. You are too afraid to use magic beyond what you know. You are a weak, impudent fool!"

_I must get out of here. But I can't let LunarMist and ShadowLight meet. _

Rathon growled. "After I bring back Katelyn I will set out to destroy everything you have ever touched!" A spark lit Rathon's eye and he narrowed them. "Starting with Nayter."

Something snapped in Brom. He felt anger of some much magnitude he felt it would rip him limb from limb. An image of Nayter flashed through his mind and he was determined beyond all reason or sense to protect her with everything he was. His eye twitched and before that muscle spasm had ended he roared with anger and raised his arm, LunarMist ready to do his will. "Strike!" LunarMist correlated into a solid orb of gathered strength and shot forward. Rathon raised his arm and sent out ShadowLight.

The two Spells met, their raging anger flowing into their attack.

Outside, the cloudless sky shook with thunder.

It had begun.

* * *

><p><strong>This is the final version, and after re-reading the old version, I just wanna say: Dear god, I love you autocorrect.<strong>


	30. The Godly Contract

Saphira's weight crashed down on the wet and loose dirt of the island of Eoam.

"Gah," Aesire said as she nearly slipped.

"Careful," Eragon cautioned.

Saphira snaked her head around and looked back at them with an eye nearly four feet long. _You two are as whinny as children. Constantly going on about howuncomfortable you are. I have explained this before and I shall explain it again. I. Am. A. Dragon! I cannot affect the outcome of my weight on ground that is as stable as solid milk. Get this saddle off. It makes my scales itch furiously. _

Eragon climbed down and watched Aesire jump down.

"Honestly, Eragon. You have no faith in Brom whatsoever. Not an hour after he leaves you wake me up and tell me we're off on some adventure. Why are we here?"

"To do what Rathon did not. And you are wrong, Aesire; it is not Brom I do not trust. Rathon was here for only a matter of hours before he left, going everywhere but where he should have. I want to know why. And that is why we are here."

Aesire put a hand on his hip. "Yes, but that doesn't explain why I must come along. Arya must be shoulder deep in nobles trying to worm their way to the throne."

"Arya," Eragon said, with a sly smile. "Knows how to handle herself as far as men are concerned."

Aesire opened his mouth, and then put his hand to his forehead. "You really had to say that, didn't you?"

Eragon's smile widened. "But, of course, my loyal advisor. Come, we have work to be done."

Eragon and Aesire unstrapped the saddle off of Saphira. She moaned with relief when its weight was off her.

_Much better, _she said.

"My King," someone called from the distance. Eragon looked to see three men, dressed in the garb of war, standing atop a flight of stairs. Eragon raised his hand to them. Aesire had already begun to walk up the stairs and Eragon went to do likewise.

A pulse; a single reverberation of power ran through the air. It was accompanied by no sound, no motion, and no thought. It was, however, so strong that it shook Eragon to the bone. He placed a hand on his heart. He turned his head and looked back, his eyes widening.

A line of fire and smoke stretched up in the distance. Its scope astounded Eragon; for such a trail could only have come from land. And the closest land was hundreds of miles away. The fact that it was visible that far away meant that it extended thousands of miles above the ground. Then Eragon felt a surge of power, so sudden and strong, coming towards them that he barely had time to react. He turned back to Aesire and the solders and shouted as loud as he could, "Brace yourselves!"

It came like a tsunami. Calm until it struck. Eragon could describe it as nothing more than the after blast of air from an explosion. It was unlike anything Eragon had ever seen or felt. It was not wind, it was not water; it wasn't even energy. But it was more powerful than those three combined.

Eragon was flung. How far he knew not; but he later estimated it to be a quarter mile. He landed with a crash that knocked the wind out of him and rolled for so long he almost threw up. His head was spinning so violently he could not tell his right from his left. When he finally regained his composure, he stood and opened his eyes.

What he saw was devastation.

What once was a vibrant island, full of greenery and exotic flowers, was not a burning, charred scrap of land upon the ocean. Thunder roared across the sky, though no clouds were floating above. Bodies of birds and animals littered the ground; the few that had gotten so far before the blast struck. Bricks from the destroyed houses fell to the ground everywhere. Eragon looked about for Aesire. He saw him, laying blooded in a burnt field off to his right. The man was picking himself up.

"Aesire," he called as he ran to him. "What is going on?"

"It's happened," Aesire said, as he wound a strip of cloth around his bleeding hand.

"What?"

"The Spells," he said, as he looked up at Eragon. "They've clashed." Aesire put a hand to his forehead, where blood pooled. "For some reason, we were spared."

"What do you…" Before Eragon could finish his question Aesire pointed off to the right. Eragon followed the trail and his heart lurched.

Bodies were everywhere. Man, woman, child. Some lay on the ground, blood gushing from their mouths. Others hung from spikes of wood that the blast had created. And a select few, ones that Eragon had to force himself to look at, were spread across several yards of ground; disintegrated from the force of the blast.

Aesire pointed off in the distance. Eragon looked and saw the line of smoke. "That is the origin of that blast," he said. "The line of smoke begins at Ilirea. Brom and Rathon."

So many thoughts were buzzing through Eragon's mind he could scarcely comprehend them all. "Why weren't we killed? We took the front of it; unprotected!"

Aesire shrugged and looked up at him, their gaze locked. "I guess someone was protecting us. Someone that wanted you to see this."

Eragon's thoughts stopped as Aesire said those words. His body froze; and that voice came to his mind once more.

_And I shall send your own creation out to destroy you. You are a fool, Eragon, to not have seen the truth. Rathon was of your making; but now he answers to me. The time of surrender has ended. I shall not kill you. For you did not kill you._

Eragon's heart skipped a beat as he finally understood. _Galbatorix!_

A faint chuckle went through his mind. _Pompous fool; of course! You did not kill me Eragon and you should have. I suppose I owe you my gratitude. Because of you; a part of me shall always survive! Because you sent my spirit to wander the land, I shall never die! _

Eragon was speechless. Everything was happening so quickly that he could not think.

_How long has it been, my young Rider? Twenty five years? Only a day has passed since Aesire banished me it feels like. And for that kindness that you showed me, Eragon, I shall condemn you to stay alive until every part of your world comes crashing down around you. For sending me to live in an eternal hell, you shall be thanked in a manner congruent with the suffering I have endured. Regrettably, _he said after a long pause. _My time is short and I must go now. _

Eragon opened his eyes and gasped. He was sitting upright on the ground_, _leaning against a black and charred rock. Aesire was looking down at him with concern.

Contradicting what he thought Aesire would say, he said, "What did you see?"

Eragon ran a hand over his forehead, finding it damp with sweat. He swallowed past the lump of fear and dread that stuck in his throat. "Galbatorix," he managed to get out. "Galbatorix is back."

Aesire's eyes darkened and he stood and looked about. "No, my friend, I'm afraid he never left."

"What…" Eragon groaned as he pushed himself up. The sun had turned red; the sky was adorned with bloody clouds.

"The Black Chamber began here, on the island of Eoam. Galbatorix's doing; not Echothain. This entire time, Echothain was meant to be a fall man; to keep us ignorant of Galbatorix's presence right under our nose."

"They, why? Why wait twenty five years?"

"He needed the right man at the right time. A person of power, influence, and capability to get him what he wanted. Someone filled with just enough resentment and anger to hear his madness and make sanity out of it. Someone that could launch an attack on us while he sat and relaxed." Aesire looked down at the ground, where a deer laid dead, almost unrecognizable. "He needed Rathon: the creation that would be sent out to destroy you. The wolf in the skies; able to strike without giving alarm."

Eragon watched Aesire as he stood up from the deer. "How do you know these things? I never told you of them."

Aesire looked back at him as he faced the massive cloud of red ash and smoke. "I know, because I have lived it before, Eragon."

Eragon's eyes began to widen in rage. "You mean you-"

"You knew of it before now, Eragon. Arya said it to you the day you were enthroned and she absolutely right. I have seen the future to be."

Unable to contain his rage Eragon leapt forward and punched Aesire on the check as hard as his arm could manage. He felt bones crack under his knuckles as Aesire fell to the ground several feet away. Eragon stepped forward. He gripped Aesire by the cuff of his tunic and dragged him up. "You self centered heartless bastard! You knew this would happen! And you said nothing? Have you any comprehension how many are dead because of you!" He threw Aesire threw the air and he landed hard on his back. "Look!" he said and gestured to the cloud. "Behold your legacy, Aesire of the Mist! Behold the result of your genius! Thousands, hundreds of thousands, name you their killer! You have doomed us! Doomed your loved ones! You are the orchestrator of their demise! You spared Galbatorix and now he has come! You have knowingly sacrificed the lives of uncountable people! Look what you have done!"

Aesire put a hand up to his check and took his fingers away, looking at the red of the blood that coated his fingers. He looked up at him and Eragon saw a tear run down his face from his right eye. "I provide no excuse for what I have done, Eragon. I cannot give you an explanation." He staggered up, holding his arm, which he had landed on. "The weight, the burden of time rests on my shoulders. I cannot now; nor could I then, give you the explanation you desire. I scarcely understand it myself." Something seemed to be draining Aesire of all his strength. He winced at every movement. "I wish I could tell you, Eragon. Wish I could tell you what to do to stop this. But the march of time will not let me." He let out a pained shout and fell to his knees. "Know this: I live to serve you. Everything I do is to the betterment of this world." Aesire let out a chocking sound. "Galbatorix has his hand on Rathon now. But Rathon shall come again. He will come with power that eclipses all others; power enough to destroy all creation and begin it anew. What he will do with it I cannot see." Aesire made the chocking noise again and blood began to run down the side of his mouth. "Go. To Ilirea. A choice will be given to you there. Choose wisely." Aesire fell to his hands and vomited. His entire body racked violently. Eragon stepped forward, remorse taking him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. The energy he felt in Aesire was an iota above what was required to keep his heart beating.

"Aesire…"

"Go," the man said, his voice trembling but stern. "I will stay here. There is an evil that must be dealt with. There is not a second to spare! GO!"

Eragon heard Saphira roar behind him. He took one last glance at Aesire and then turned and ran to his dragon, leaping onto her shoulders as she took off into the air.

Behind him Aesire's eyes dulled. "Until I see you again, Eragon. Until the days of torment come to an end. Until I am released from my bindings. Until the world shakes with Rathon's power, until the heavens linger on his decision, until all of creation cries out to him to release his power on the world. I bid you: farewell."

And he closed his eyes, to gather his might for what must soon be done.

* * *

><p>Brom forced his eyes open and he stood. Around him, Leonis Palace lay in ruin. Fire was burning down every house and ruble claimed most of the ground. On top of or underneath were bodies, more than Brom had ever seen. The sky had turned to red and the horror of the moment made Brom want to vomit.<p>

A noise, the slightest disturbance of air behind, made Brom jump forward and twist around. A blade spun threw the air.

Rathon stood twenty yards away on a pile of rocks. Fire beneath him lit his face up in burning anger.

"Do you see what you have caused?" Brom yelled. "Is this what you wanted?"

Rathon examined the many bodies lying around them. "Collateral damage in the pursuit of a higher goal."

What he said disgusted Brom. "You are lost, Brother! There is no redemption for what you have done." He charged at Rathon, calling on the full power of LunarMist. He had spent his whole life over his brother. He was confident in his ability to destroy this monster before it grew and obliterated even more. He set his heart aside and prepared to kill his brother.

Rathon caught LunarMist with his bare hand. Brom's mind went blank. As his feet touched the ground Rathon gripped him by the neck and threw him against a large chunk of the stone walls that had once been a part of the palace. Lights flashed through Brom's head as he did. _No, _he thought. _That isn't even possible. No one but the master… _

"Can touch the Spell?" Rathon finished. Brom looked into Rathon's eyes and saw that they had returned to the slits they were earlier.

"Rathon, what is…"

Rathon began to chuckle, until he tipped his head back and laughed. "I'm afraid your brother cannot hear you."

Icy chills ran down Brom's back. "Who are you?"

Rathon tipped his head from side to side. "You look nothing like your namesake, do you? Oh, before I forget, I owe you my gratitude. Without you, none of this would have been possible." Before Brom could speak Rathon smirked and said, "You had the most marvelous timing after…" He paused. "What was her name? Katelyn. Yes, that's it. You had the most marvelous timing after Katelyn rejected you those weeks ago. Rylar was beginning to question the worthiness of being in my service. A little flare to the hormones and you were all over her, weren't you? Another few hours and she might have defected, and that little whore of yours, Katelyn, might very well have lived. Made her stay long enough until that deed was done." Brom tightened his fist and threw a punch, as hard as he could at Rathon. He caught it with childish effort. Rathon twisted his wrist, bending Brom's arm until the joint snapped. Brom went down on his knees, his eyes blackening from pain.

_LunarMist, _he said in his thoughts. LunarMist could not heal, but it could draw him away from the pain.

"Ah," Rathon said and pulled him back up. "There it is. LunarMist." Brom opened his eyes and met Rathon's gaze. It was at that point, seeing Rathon's eyes heavy with greed; that he knew he was truly not speaking with his brother. "I'll make this clear and concise," Rathon said. "Give it to me," his voice darkened with a threat more immanent than any Brom had ever heard. Heavy in anger; weighed down to the bottom in malice.

"I don't know what evil had taken you, Rathon. But I will never surrender LunarMist to any, let alone whatever has possessed you.

Rathon smiled the most uncomfortable grin. "Brom," he said, drawing the word out in a chuckle. Then his face grew thoughtful. "I really have to say," Rathon said. "You realized your true feelings for Nayter far faster than I had anticipated." He tapped his first finger of his right hand against his lips. "That…feeling, for lack of a better term, you get when you are around her. The one that all you want is to be with her. Do you know what that is?"

"I know exactly what it is, Demon. Do you?" He growled.

"I'm afraid our assumptions may differ on this one." He laughed. "However, I believe you'll find that my explanation makes far more sense. And honestly, I shouldn't even need to tell you this. It's extremely obvious. A toddler could figure it out." Brom spit in Rathon's face. That seemed to catch him off guard. He wiped it away and then went back to his condescending mockery. "You are doubtlessly aware of the defensive mechanism of the Three Great Spells, are you not? The one in which any who are not their masters yearn for it as nothing else?"

"What of it? I felt that way for her even before she took on any Spell."

"Not so."

Brom sneered. "You are a pompous fool. You clearly don't even know when Nayter was given BloodFire. And without that…" He stopped as Rathon clamped a hand around his throat. The strength in his grip exceeded a Kull's. A deathly glint had snuck into his eyes.

"When did I say it was BloodFire with which I was referring to?" He withdrew his hand. "Correct me; since are so knowledgeable about this, if I am wrong. But it was Aesire of the Mist who passed down LunarMist to you." Brom remained silent. "I shall take that as an affirmation," Rathon said. He leaned down until his mouth was beside Brom's ear. "Remind me. Living for as long as I have clouds the memory. Who fathered Nayter? Was it not Aesire?" Brom's heart skipped a beat. Rathon took a step back and watched Brom's face as it grew shocked. "Now, do you see? A part of a part of a part was passed down from Aesire to his daughter, Nayter. However small, it still serves its purpose. The LunarMist inside of Nayter was not there when you were given the Spell. And so it does not know that you are its master. Even still, the two parts, in you and Nayter, still know that they are apart of one Spell. Now, when the Spell in her sees the spell in you, it thinks it is being held by some random stranger, and thus the defensive mechanism activates. Making you yearn for her. This affect does the same to you in the same way."

Brom was speechless. He could not think. He could barely breathe. Rathon smirked. "Do you finally understand?" he said. He lowered his head again so that it was beside Brom's ear. "I'll make it unquestionably clear. The 'love' you feel for her. The 'affection' she feels for you. They are nothing more than the fabricated feelings of empty emotion brought on by the Spells. They are fake! Nothing about them is real. They are as real as the dreams you have at night. Nothing more than an illusion."

Brom felt everything slip away from him. He slid down to the ground, all emotion gone. _My love is...not real? _Everything Rathon, or whoever or whatever had said it, spoke with the utmost logic. Everything it said made reasonable sense that made no room for doubt. Tears began to fall down Brom's face. He was broken. Every reason he was fighting Rathon had just been taken away.

Rathon took a few steps back and savored the moment. "I have no desire to kill you. This place is stained enough. But I will; without hesitation in fact. I will give you a single hour to send LunarMist out to me. You are to instruct it to greet me as its new master. If you fail to meet this deadline, or do not comply with this requirement, I will make it my vendetta to seek out and destroy everything you have ever created or touched." Like a raven bathed in light Rathon disappeared.

Brom sat against the rock for what felt like an eternity. Everything he had ever felt, everything he had ever thought, everything he had ever known was clashing in his mind and heart. He was at war with himself for what must have been a half hour.

Then a question occurred to him. _Do you, or do you not, love Nayter? _

Without a second of thought, he said, "I do."

_Then what, if any, is the purpose of this wondering? You love Nayter, not the facet of LunarMist within her. You know what you must do._

Brom sat up. His reason for existing had been injured, but he had a reason to continue, if only shortly. "Yes. I do know. And I have for a long time now." He closed his eyes and emptied his mind. He set aside his circumstances and where he was for the calm of inner peace.

When nothing was in his mind, not even his own thoughts, he extended a hand and said, "Your master calls to you, O LunarMist. Heed me." He opened his eyes.

He stood in a room of absolute white. Standing before him was the outline of a man, hardly visible. He was composed of shifting mist that stopped at a certain point, as though restricted by magic. This was the world of LunarMist.

A voice, a voice that shook with the thunder of power, spoke. "My Master. Why have you summoned me in this form?"

"I have need of you," Brom replied. The unbridled strength of the room alone would cause any other man to quack in fear; but Brom knew he spoke to a loyal servant.

"Master; you know you may call on me to fulfill any desire. What is your wish?"

"I wish to sign the Godly Contract."

The mist that composed the man wavered. It was the Spell's way to show surprise. "As you wish, my Master. What will put as sacrifice?"

"I shall state my desires and you shall take anything of me that you require to satisfy the Contract."

A long pause followed. "My Master, I shall obey your command, whatever it is. But I caution you. What you mean to do is dangerous. State your wishes."

Brom composed himself. Even he was frightened. He licked his lips; he knew what he was about to do would defile all that he stood for. "My first request: raise Katelyn from the dead."

Another pause, this one longer. "The price of resurrection is a steep one."

"I am aware. Make it so."

"Yes, Master. Please, continue."

"My second request…" He put a hand on his heart. "Is dear to me. If all that I am cannot sustain these requests, this is the one I want you to focus on and see done."

"I will, Master."

"Nayter. She has a darker half that compels her to do evil, bloody things. I cannot ask you to destroy that side; it would destroy part of what makes her herself. Instead, I ask that you give her the ultimate power to stop that side of her. Level the terrain of her two sides; so that they are no longer battling for supremacy, but waiting for her choice on which she wishes to be at what time."

"It shall be done, Master. Do you have anything else to add to the Contract?"

"Aye. I must separate these, so that you may focus on the second command if you need. My final request is that you give Nayter the ability to hide her wolf ears and tail if it be her wish."

"Very well, Master. The Contract is signed."

"When this is done, I want you to go to Rathon. Acknowledge him as your new master."

Another stir of the mist. "May I speak, Master?"

"You may."

"Why do you wish me to do this?"

Brom looked down at the blank white floor. "To protect her."

* * *

><p><strong>What did I say? What did I say? If you give me time, I will explain. Well, there ya go. <strong>

**If that was at all confusing, as it might well be, please don't hesitate to navigate yourself to the submitting of reviews section below, and inform me of such confusion. Crap's about to hit the fan, so you guys are gonna need to be in the loop. **


	31. A New Life

**TheRedReader: :) Considering I get college credit for it, there some pretty good initiative right there. One of the major reasons I quit last time was because I didn't want to create more piles of bull crap like the old five. I don't know if you read those, and if you haven't I advice you against it. It would ruin your opinion of me. **

**Elemental Dragon Slayer: Yeah, these chapters have only had a year of build up. :)**

* * *

><p><em>Peace.<em>

_Serenity._

_Calm._

Katelyn stirred from the boundless lands that she had wandered for what seemed to her to be a millennium. She felt her heart stir, her lungs expand, and her mind begin to move once more. Slowly, like a stag coming into a field, Katelyn returned to consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open. It took her some time before she took stock of her surroundings.

She lay in an open casket, lined with white sheets and made of the thickest oaks of Du Weldenvarden. Her hair was brushed and shinning. She wore cloths of the finest white.

_Have I died, and awoken as a spirit?_

"You haven't," came the voice from beside her. She summoned her strength and turned her head, seeing a man garbed in whiteness that made her clothing look mud splattered. He stood by her, only a foot away, and his presence gave the sense of power; unbridled and uncontainable.

"Calibor," she said. She rose to greet him but he held up a hand, forestalling her.

"No, dear child. Your strength is scarce. Please, stay where you are and give your body the time that it needs."

"What has happened, Calibor? Why am I so weak?" It was only then that she realized that she was absolutely exhausted. Just keeping her eyes open was a laborious task.

"To put it simply, Child, you are returning from the dead." Katelyn stirred with astonishment. "You were betrayed, Katelyn. Not by intent or design of the betrayer. She killed you. You have been dead for several weeks."

"Then how…"

Calibor put a finger to her lips. "Please, do not speak so loudly. If I was discovered here, it would raise questions I do not wish to answer." He withdrew her hand and she nodded.

"How am I…alive?" Despite the shock of everything that was happening, she felt calm. The apparent weeks in the land of peace she had been in had worn on her.

"Brom. He signed what is called the Godly Contract. It is what Aesire used to do away with Galbatorix. It is LunarMist's greatest strength. In exchange for something that makes you what you are, you are given the power of the Gods. You are able to shift and bend reality to your wishes. For a brief moment, that is, with extreme limitation on the practicality of your wish."

Katelyn felt her strength returning. She sat up and flexed her right hand. It felt strange to move once again. She was about to stand when a thought occurred to her. "Where is Arani? I wish to see my dragon."

"And you will, dear one," Calibor reassured. "What do you remember? What is the last thing you recall?"

Katelyn thought for a long moment. "I remember flying out on Arani to fight the battle for Vroengard. That is all." Katelyn pushed herself off the bed, wanting to stand because her legs were horribly cramped. Just as her legs were starting to hold her full weight, she lost her balance and fell. Her heart raced. After her weeks of slumber, the small fright was terrifying and she thought, _BloodFire! _She fell to the ground, bruising her arm as she tried to slow her fall. She looked up at Calibor from the floor as she picked herself up. She looked at her hands, and saw no ring upon them. "Where is BloodFire?"

"Nayter has taken over the position of Queen of the Dwarfs in your place. She holds BloodFire. Rest assured; she will most certainly return it."

Katelyn looked about the room, trying to avoid eye contact with Calibor. It shamed her, but she felt almost naked without the spell on her finger; an ever present and always loyal servant. Calibor helped her up. "I think I'd like to see Brom and Rathon. Where are they?"

Calibor's eyes grew dark. He led her to the window, where she beheld a massive column of smoke that ascended into the skies hundreds of miles away. The moon hung in the sky, plain as though it was night, and it along with the sky itself had turned a ruddy crimson.

"What is…"

"That," Calibor said, cutting her off. "Is the aftermath of Brom and Rathon's battle." He looked down at her. "ShadowLight and LunarMist have met in battle."

Icy water ran down Katelyn's back, and dread filled her from head to toe. "Why?" she asked. "What has happened?"

"Galbatorix, who Aesire banished from the physical world, has his hand on Rathon, and has convinced him to bring LunarMist to him, with the promise of raising you."

Katelyn looked from the cloud to Calibor and back again. "We must stop them."

"It is far too late to stop this now, Katelyn. Your being alive is sure testament to the fact that Rathon has been victorious over Brom."

"So then what are we to do?"

"You? Go. Let your life be known. Eragon is gone and Arya has need of your prowess." Katelyn nodded and turned to leave the room, but Calibor gripped her wrist. She looked back. An expression of inhuman seriousness had come upon him. "You have just risen from the dead, so I will spare you this. Prepare for this day. Those following shall be difficult." Katelyn blinked, and when her eyes opened, she stood alone in the room. The word ran through the air, each repetition more silent than the last.

_Prepare. Prepare. Prepare._

* * *

><p>Rathon smiled as he saw the orb of LunarMist descending to him. <em>That took less time than I thought. <em>He stood from the boulder he had been leaning against as the orb slowed to a stop in front of him.

A soul shacking voice echoed through his mind, the voice of LunarMist. _Rarely do I speak with the words of Man. I have been told by my chosen master to obey you._

_"And obey me you shall," _Rathon replied.

He opened his palm and drew a knife over the soft flesh of his hand. He pooled the blood on the ground, letting it seep down to the ground for a full minute. When his head grew light, he sent a pulse of energy from the surroundings to heal the wound. "ShadowLight," he said. "Create a bridge through space and allow me to step through it. I give you my blood as penance for this."

ShadowLight ran to the ground and absorbed the blood. Then it rose as it once had, forming the doorway through time. Rathon stepped through it, following shortly by LunarMist and Leonis. He had given more blood than the previous time to support the distance between him and his target and to create a bridge large enough for Leonis.

Rathon fell six feet to the ground. He grunted as he impacted the ground. He staggered up and saw that it was night. The moon hung in the sky, but no stars were to be seen, even though it was the latest part of the night. He stood on the beach of Eoam.

_It's been at least seven hours. Circuit the island. _He told Leonis. _Make sure we will not be interrupted._

Leonis took off at a run, took two jumps and then disappeared in the night sky. Rathon made his way up the hill, LunarMist hanging above his head. Soon he was at the forest and having a hard time navigating it.

The sound of wood striking rock echoed behind him. He turned and saw Nazmenra standing on a rock hill.

"Nazmenra," he said.

"Greetings, child. I sense the presence of two Great Spells. You have returned with LunarMist, have you not?"

"As requested," Rathon said. He looked about. This place was different than the last one. "How did you find me? I can't seem to find my way anywhere in these woods."

"I dare say it was you who stumbled across me, dear Prince. I was but sitting here, enjoying the sounds of nature, and suddenly I hear a grunt, a curse, and a feeling of great power." Rathon approached the base of the rock hill.

"I wish to summon back Katelyn as soon as possible. I have reason to believe there are those coming who mean to stop me."

"Whatever happened to your brother?"

"He was dealt with. Summon the spirit."

Nazmenra stood and raised his arms out. He struck the wood staff against the ground; the sound echoing throughout the forest. Again and again he struck it. "Come forth, All-Mighty One. Your servant calls to you!"

The darkness of the field was destroyed as the orb of light came out of nowhere. Rathon raised his arm to protect his eyes from the blinding lights.

_"You have returned," _came the voice of power.

_"I have. And I mean you to make good on your promise. I have brought you LunarMist."_

_"Then we may proceed." _Without prompting, LunarMist began to drift towards the larger sphere of light. They had almost touched when someone shouted from the edge of the clearing. Rathon looked to its source and was bewildered to see Aesire standing there, sword drawn.

"Stop this!" he called.

_"Rathon," _the voice said. _"I require a moment of peace to summon the magic. You must delay him until then."_

Rathon called forth ShadowLight, shaping it like a sword, and stepped between Aesire and the spheres of light. Aesire strode forward without evident fear and struck at Rathon. Rathon parried the blow.

"My own student," Aesire said, and slashed at him. "Now the bringer of evil."

Rathon kept his eyes on Aesire's as the circled around each other. "Your mind is daft, old man. I mean to bring back Katelyn, not evil."

Aesire slashed at Rathon with an underhand blow. "What you mean to do is meaningless here, Rathon. What you intend is beside the point."

"Explain something to me," Rathon said as he blocked Aesire next attack. "Why did you always favor Brom over me? Why did you always see that he grew stronger while I wallowed in my weakness?"

Incomparable anger festered in Aesire's eyes. "Favored him, did I? Perhaps I did, but if that is the case, the reason hardly seems a need to be explained. Look about you Rathon. Look at what you have done!" Aesire stabbed forward. Rathon stepped to the side, the blade missing his gut by centimeters.

Rathon took a step back and swung his arm at Aesire with all his strength and that of ShadowLight. The force should have obliterated Aesire's blade. Aesire leapt back. Something behind Aesire caught Rathon's eye. The shape of a person was growing ever more evident.

_Katelyn. It's working, _he thought, a tingle running down his side. Because of the distraction, Aesire almost lopped off his head. He ducked as fast as he could. Aesire's blade claimed several of his hairs. Rathon slashed at Aesire's legs. The man jumped to avoid the blade and then, having regained his footing, raised his sword overhead to strike Rathon down.

Just as the blade was falling from on high, a blast of energy, an explosion of fire and a deafening blast erupted from behind them. Rathon remembered three things about those few seconds that he was thrown through space and time.

He remembered Aesire's eyes as his sword fell. Blue, sharp, ready to kill.

He remembered a ball of light penetrating into Aesire's back.

And he remembered Aesire's eyes after the orb had entered him. Black as the nighttime sky.

Rathon picked himself up from the ground. He looked about himself. Smoke rose from fires that had sprung up. He stood on shaking legs and tried to find Aesire. He saw him, standing in front of a fire the size of a small house, a hand over his right eye. Both his eyes were closed in an expression of ecstasy.

"Flesh," he said. "Once more I am clocked in it. Appropriate, if not ironic, wouldn't you say, Aesire? That I take the body of the man who took mine?" Confusion riddled Rathon's mind. _What…is this? _Nazmenra went up to Aesire, walking without the aid of his staff. Aesire opened his eyes, which were dark as the wings of a raven and looked at him.

"Have you returned, my Master?" Nazmenra said.

"Indeed," Aesire said, turning to him. "Take off that form. It disgusts me."

Nazmenra dipped into a bow. "As you command, Master." Darkness engulfed Nazmenra like a cloud of tar. When it fell, Rathon's heart stopped beating for a moment. The man who stood again, who stood in a swirling pool of blackness, was Echothain. The two exchanged a few words that Rathon could not hear. His heart was beating his ears so loudly he could not hear. Then they turned their black eyes to him.

"Well done on him, by the way," Aesire said.

"My thanks, Master. It was childish once I said I could resurrect Katelyn. What do you want me to do with him? Do you wish for me to dispose of him?"

"No. I have something more special in mind." Aesire went and knelt down in front of Rathon. He inched away, for he felt the rawest evil of the darkest kind approaching him. "Hello, little one," he said, his voice like that of a snake's. "My name, as I was once called, is Galbatorix."

Rathon felt ice run down his back. He had heard the tale of Galbatorix. How he had ruled over what was once the Empire, his kingdom, and had come close to shrouding the world in his reign. He had destroyed the Riders almost single handedly.

Then, it began to sink in.

By the power of LunarMist, Galbatorix had been bound. Only by the power of LunarMist could he be freed.

"Yes," Galbatorix said with a chuckle as horror grew of Rathon's face. "Do you see what you have done? Let loose the most powerful and evil force known to creation. And you brought me a body as well. I was going to take Echothain's, but two is better than one, right? And that means, we have no need for you. However, you have been of great service to me. And so I will give you two things. I shall let you walk away alive. And this next one is less of a gift and more for my amusement." His dark eyes, like black pebbles, bore into Rathon with a burning intensity. "When only two of the three Spells met in battle, one of the presumed outcomes is that a spirit of death itself is released to wreak havoc. How many you have killed, no one can truly say for sure. But know this. Your death count is at the base minimum of three hundred thousand. That is more than the populace of the elven race. However, I digress. You came here to resurrect Katelyn. Sadly, even with the power of LunarMist, that is an impossible task. And do you know why?"

Rathon remained silent, too frightened to speak. Galbatorix laughed and leaned forward so his lips were beside Rathon's ear, much like he had done to Brom. "She's already been raised." Lightning struck in Rathon's mind. Galbatorix withdrew with a smirk on his face. "Yes. You, Rathon, have damned all of creation. I have returned, and I do not intend to be silent about it. I shall sit on the throne of the world. It is by your hand that all of creation shall bow before me and it was all for naught."

All hope and all sense of rightness, faded from Rathon. He slumped down, ready for death. What had he done? The true weight and gravity of how many he had killed hit him. Hundreds of thousands of people, lives as precious as his own to him, had been taken for nothing. And more were to follow. He knew Galbatorix would make good on his promise. He had made his reason for living Katelyn and now that reason was gone.

Galbatorix stood and gestured to Echothain. The man knelt and took ShadowLight from his finger. "In time," Galbatorix said, slipping the ring onto his own finger. "This spell will obey me. Even if it doesn't, you can't use it unless you hold it."

Echothain put his hand on Galbatorix's shoulder and the shadows engulfed them and rocketed them away.

Rathon lay on the ground, a broken soul. The sound of flapping wings echoed in the distance and the ruby scales descended onto him.

* * *

><p>Eragon sighed and put the paper down. <em>Rathon is out there with LunarMist, doing who know what and I sit here<em>,_ signing documents._

Something clicked behind Eragon. He bolted up, drawing Brisingr and preparing to attack whatever was behind him. Nothing but a wall was there. He calmed himself and put his blade away. _My mind is playing tricks on me._

He turned and blanched. A man sat in a chair in front of his desk. He wore normal traveling cloths, but his right arm, which bore a tattoo of a black dragon.

"Peace, son of Brom." He said.

"Who are you?"

"In this time and in this place, my name is Kayalder. I come bearing news of your sons." The name clicked in Eragon's mind. He knew it, but could not remember from where. "You know my name," the man continued, "because I once sent a werecat to tell you of the future."

Eragon remembered now. He sat down and said, "So you are the fabled Lord of Dragons?"

Kaylader's eyes were unwavering. "Yes, I am, and many more things besides. But here and now I have a purpose and that is to tell you what has happened."

"Please, go on," Eragon said.

"Your sons have crossed their spells, under the banner of war. I trust you are aware of the…repercussions?"

"I have heard tale of them. Would you be so courteous to explain?"

Kayalder rubbed his brow. "The Great Spells are the product of the conjoining of two spirits. In some cases, like ShadowLight, the two can logically have nothing to do with one another, yet they cooperate exactly, as though they were one entity. That is their power and their weakness. Their power: because it makes them stronger than any other spell in existence, because it is sentient. Its weakness: because if you add more to that pool of force, the bonds break and the spirits turn on one another. That is what causes the devastation. That is why the Spells can never meet in combat. Because, when ShadowLight and LunarMist attack each other, the four spirits that make up those two lose track of themselves. The presence of that amount of sheer power…" He shook his head. "I am countless millenniums old and I don't have the intellect to understand what happens in that moment. What I can tell you is that the Spells that are cast out on each other are one Spell for an instant. They can't help it; the spirit's nature is to join with other spirits. But then the force of their master's orders to attack that spirit is thrown in. And in that moment, the Spells grow confused. They look on their fellow spirit as good, something to trust. And then their master tells them to attack."

Kayalder closed his eyes and sighed, as though what he was saying made him sad. "I suspect that what causes the destruction is that in that moment of battle, when ShadowLight and LunarMist hit each other, each of those four spirits lost track of what they were attack. And thus, Shadow turned on Light and Lunar turned on Mist, and each of those four on the other three." He leaned forward and said with gravity, "It is like four hurricanes colliding. Each throws the other around with its strength, and with each toss it grows faster and faster until it breaks and the four go spinning off into nothingness. That is what causes the devastation. When the two Spells, and the four spirits that they are made of clash, the result is the Spells destroy anything they see, mistaking it for the target their master told them to kill." Kayalder looked up at him. "Do you understand? The Spirits' crossing and misinterpreting their target is what I believe causes the devastation. Do I know that for a fact? No. It could be that Spells simply strike out at everything in frustration for their master ordering them to attack their ally. I honestly have only speculation at my disposal."

Eragon sat, digesting everything he had said. "So are the Spells really one entity, if they are formed of two separate things? And will they ever one again?"

Kayalder lifted his hands out to the halls of the room. "Look at this building, King Eragon. Is not it formed of hundreds of bricks? And are the bricks not held together by mortar? Though it is formed of many things that are not one, you look at it as a single object. But when the bricks separate, the building collapses. The Spells are no different. Two different things, that when combined, make a single thing. But when separated, the Spell collapses. But the building and the Spell can both be rebuilt."

Eragon nodded slowly. This was a lot to take in. "Please," he said, waving a hand. "Go."

"Yes, of course. Your sons and their Spells have fought. This you know. And because of that, you are doubtlessly aware of the cause of Rathon's extreme actions in…"

"Yes," Eragon said, cutting him off. "I'm aware." Hearing of Galbatorix's hold on Rathon pained Eragon.

"Forgive me," Kayalder said. "I was insensitive with my wording." Eragon raised a hand, letting the matter drop. "Painful though it is, King, the fact remains. Galbatorix has a hand on Rathon. And it is an unwavering grip that has been growing in strength for years. Rathon's resentment, his anger, fuels Galbatorix's hold, because it makes Rathon turn a blind eye to reason, making it all the easier for Galbatorix to manipulate him."

"So what do I do?" Eragon said. "Turn on my own son?"

"I have yet to finish, King. But this you must know. It is he who has turned on you. Now," he said, "your son, Brom, has signed the Godly Contract."

Eragon's heart began to beat faster. The Godly Contract, otherwise known as the Contract of Sacrifice, is what Aesire had used to seal away Galbatorix's soul. He knew what it was, and he feared it because of that. He swallowed loudly. "What was the cost?"

"I do not know," Kayalder said, shaking his head. "I can only tell you that he has resurrected Katelyn."

Eragon looked Kayalder dead in the eye, and said in a soft voice, "She lives?"

"I spoke with her just this morning. Her heart beats just as yours." Eragon began to stand to express his joy, when Kayalder lifted his hand, a grave expression on his face. "Quell your excitement for now, King. There is more still." Eragon sat once more. Kayalder, and his face of grave fear, frightened Eragon.

"Go on," he said.

"Even now, your enemy, Galbatorix, has clocked himself in the flesh of the man who banished him."

For a moment, Eragon forgot how to breathe. He looked down at his hands as the world spun around him. In the decades that he had served at Eragon's side, Eragon had grown fond of Aesire and now thought of him as a brother.

"He knew this was his fate," Kayalder said. "He went and confronted Rathon, knowing full well that he would be enslaved to Galbatorix, cursed to act as the madman's host. That is what he meant when he said that he lived to serve you. That everything he did was for the betterment of the world. Now, Galbatorix has flesh. And he marches here with an army that has been dormant for decades, waiting for its master to call it. By now they have already began their onslaught."

Eragon dipped his head and stared down at the table. He was devastated. _Everything I have worked for, everything I have done. It's all crashing down. Galbatorix was never slain and now this world I have spent my life making is tumbling. _His arms were tired of carrying the weight of the world. All he wanted was to take an order of what to do rather than give one. Tears in his eyes, he looked back up. "What am I to do?"

Kayalder looked down for a moment and then sighed. "Leave."

Eragon shook his head in confusion. "Leave what?"

"Alagesia. Leave it. Take to the high seas and make way to Alalea. Leave and flee from Galbatorix while you have the chance. Nothing but death and ruin await you in this land. But you have time enough to escape. Call together those you love and set sail while you still have to save them. Build a new life in Alalea, safe from Galbatorix."

"I cannot…"

"Eragon, listen to me. Those years ago, when you were enthroned, you asked Aesire a question. Do you remember what it was?"

Eragon thought back to that day. "No, I don't."

"You asked him about his ability over magic. He had said he didn't have the power over it, but he had cast ShadowLight to set the trap for Galbatorix. Did it not touch your mind, of how? He held LunarMist, how could he use ShadowLight?" Kayalder laid a hand on his chest. "I granted him leave of the Spell, to use it. But that came at a price higher than his talent over magic, which was considerable, I assure you. One does not go from here in time to there without seeing to the future and the past. He saw the future, and thus the weight of time is upon him. ShadowLight will not allow you to tamper with the future or the past if you are not its master. Simply telling you how to stop what was happening qualifies. That is why he collapsed as he did. ShadowLight stole all his strength to stop him from speaking."

Kayalder lowered his hand and his voice calmed. "I have also seen the future, but I am a master of ShadowLight. I paid an extreme price to always have it as a loyal servant. There is not a day that goes by that I wish I could stop myself from making that choice. But because I am its master I can tell you this: flee. Run. Time is of the essence. Gather your forces and run. The elves will show you the way to Alalea and there, you can begin anew. Stay here," He shook his head, "and the sacrifice of many will be made in vain."

Eragon blinked and when his eyes reopened, Kayalder was gone. _Time is of the essence. Even now, Galbatorix has begun his onslaught. Do not waste even a moment. Flee now and I guarantee that you will escape._

"Guards!" he called. Five riders rushed into the room. "Mount your dragons! Set forth to all corners of the land! Who is the fastest among you?"

A human man raised his hand. "I am slow on my feet, Sire, but my dragon can carry me from Ilirea to Vroengard in a day and a half time."

Eragon gripped his shoulder. "Go forth then. Set wing to Vroengard and tell Arya to ready a fleet. Have her kind begin making the largest vessels that will float under massive burdens."

"Yes, my Lord!" He turned and sprinted out of the room.

"I want one of you to set yourself before a scrying pool and send out messages to all the kingdoms. Come. Come to the ocean. An evil has struck and we flee the land of Alagaesia." The riders stirred with astonishment. "Galbatorix has returned. Nay, he has never left us. Muster all our resources. Every boot is to be utilized, every dragon is to be on wing and every runner is to be on foot. Send word to the dwarves: set sail on your own ships. Go around the Beors as quickly as you can. Fifty riders are to go with them to assure they find us. Send word to the elves: forsake your woods and all things that slow you. Come to the ocean, to any city that has a harbor, with the speed gifted to you by the Gods. The rest of you. Go forth and make ready the Urgals and the humans and prepare for the days yet to come."

* * *

><p><strong>Can't tell you how long I've been building up this story and more specifically these chapters. And now LunarMist is winding down to its conclusion. It literally might take me, at max, three more chapters, and that's if I take the time to overly describe things. Which I likely won't do just because its very labor intensify. <strong>


	32. The End of Kings

_A lightning crash echoed in Nayter's wolf ears. A creeping sensation ran through her, like spiders crawling up her spine. She bent over, her hand over her heart. Those with her stopped and looked at her with concern. One of them reached for her, but she waved a hand at the young man, afraid that she was entering into her wolf state. _

_"Ma'am, what is…" _

_Nayter uttered a pained cry as bright light burst forth in her mind's eye. She fell to the ground and writhed. Shouts sprung up around her and there were loud footsteps running in every direction. All that Nayter could see was white; blank and bright. _

_She lay there, panting and sweating, until the pain subsided and she was able to open her eyes. Everything seemed to be tinted in red. When she moved her arms, it felt as though she had been carrying a heavy burden only to have it removed. Like she was swimming and her body was weightless. _

_She looked about and noticed that the nobles she had been walking with had scattered to bring aid. Only one person, a human girl by the name of Alicia, crouched beside her. She looked fearful. _

_"Lady, are you...here?"_

What a bizarre question._ Nayter thought. She reached up to rub her head and then saw why Alicia had asked. Her fingernails were sharp as claws. She reached up and felt her teeth with a finger, only to pull it back. A drop of blood dripped out of her finger from where her fang had cut her. _What's going on?_ She thought. Not once had she been conscious during her wolf state. _

_"Do not be afraid," she said. She closed her eyes and launched an assault on herself, trying to regain her control. _

_She took it without a fight. The red in her eyes went away, her claws returned to fingernails, and her fangs returned to normal. She looked down at her hand, more befuddled than she had ever been in her whole life. _

_"My Lady," Alicia said. "Are you alright?" _

_"Yes," she answered. "I believe I am." _

_"We must be going," Alicia urged. Her eyes darkened with sorrow. "The forces of darkness approach." _

_With Alicia's help she stood. "Where have the nobles gone to?"_

_"They went to get aid, Lady. You fell, and everything became panic."_

_"Summon the frightened deer back."_

_"Yes, Lady." The girl set off at a trot in the direction the nobles had gone. _

Someone tapped Nayter's arm, waking her. She opened her eyes as someone shook her arm."Ma'am."

"What?"

"The rest is over, Ma'am," a sturdy dwarf said from beside her. "We must be moving again."

Nayter stumbled up and made her way to the entrance of the tunnel. She looked down at the great precession that was marching by below. Thousands of Dwarfs made their way through the tunnels under the Mountains, making their way to the opposite end of the range. To the ocean, to set sail for a new life. Nayter's heart ached with sorrow, as she watched children cry in their mother's arms. _Why must these days be mine?_ She thought. They had been on the move for a week now, marching through the tunnels, taking stops on once or twice a day. The Dwarfs were a hardy people, she had learned. They needed only small breaks, if any. That was not what hurt her heart the worst, however.

Nayter had just come from a meeting with a group of her magicians and nobles. They had informed her that, two days past, Galbatorix, in the skin of her father, had laid waste to the Dwarfen clans that lived outside the Beors. He had struck like a bolt of lightning, one moment there, the next gone, riding on the back of red and black dragon. There had not been a single survivor, her magicians had said. Knowing that her father was enslaved to be the host of an evil force beyond reckoning pained her in the most unique way. It was not like normal pain; sharp as a sword but dulling after awhile, or like the pain of losing a love done, which was like a dime soreness that would forever afflict her. This pain was like a sense of helplessness. That she was completely unable to do anything against what Galbatorix was doing to her father. Eragon, through the message of a scrying pool, had spent an hour consoling her. Her mother, through her heavy tears and throws of wrath, had told her to harden her heart and do what was needed.

_"It will do neither me nor the world any good if you throw yourself at Galbatorix to free your father, only to die,"_ her mother had said. Then, in the voice that was small and pleading, she said, _"Please, my dear child, do not go after Galbatorix. I cannot bear to lose the both of you."_ Then she had left Nayter's view, and she heard crying in the background. Eragon had taken Hola's place and he had looked on her with an expression which, while compassionate, was stern.

_"Nayter. I dare say your father was the bravest man I have ever known. He knowingly and willingly sacrificed himself to buy us the time we needed to escape with minimal injuries. I know the bloodlust in you must want revenge. Damn Galbatorix to Hell; I want revenge! But now is the time to cut our losses and flee, and save who we can." His eyes grew somber. "With the aid of Echothain he is able to shift from here to there in only a moment. He has killed many and taken many captive. But," Eragon said, and his voice became almost harsh. "I order you, as High King, to continue to the ocean, and hence to us, without stopping. You have Elves among you. Instruct them to use magic to shift the currents of the sea and push your boats along. Instruct your riders to fly on their dragons above the ships, using the wind from the dragon's wings to push you along ever faster. I want you here in a week's time, do you understand?"_

_Nayter felt sorrow and anger gripping at her, driving her to reject the order for the hopelessness of the situation. But the words of her mother kept her firm. So she hardened her heart and said, "Yes, King, I understand and I shall obey." _

_Eragon's eyes calmed. "Thank you," he breathed. _

_"My Lord," she said, her voice softer. _

_"Yes, Nayter?"_

_"What…has befallen Brom?"_

_Eragon's eyes grew stricken with grief. "The change came to you?"_

_"I did change," Nayter said, placing a hand on her heart. "But I don't know how, or really even what. I have…this terrible feeling that Brom is in danger."_

_Eragon took a deep breath. "He is at that, Nayter. He is at that. Although of what kind or nature I don't know." He lifted his gaze and their eyes met. The seriousness in his eyes made Nayter's heart beat like a dragon's. "I'm not sure how else to tell you this, Nayter. Therefore, I will just say it directly and answer any questions to the best of my ability. Understand that my own knowledge of this is limited at best. Brom signed a contract with LunarMist, granting him the ability to do whatsoever was his wish, for but a moment. The cost for is this usually heavy, although is always equal to what LunarMist gives you. When Aesire did it, it costed him LunarMist's loyalty." Nayter's eyebrows rose. She had heard tale of how Eragon and Aesire had defeated Galbatorix, but she had never learned the price her father had paid. Katelyn had told her, and she had personally experienced, how truly loyal the Spells were to their master. _

_"What did Brom do?" she asked. _

_"Several things. The one that you would know best; he remolded your mind so that your bloodlust side, the side of a wolf which your mother told me of, became subservient to your will." An ounce of pride slipped into Eragon's voice as he spoke of his son. "I truly believe that Brom loves you with all that he is, Nayter. I truly believe that he made that sacrifice thinking of you; the struggle that you have every day and what he needed to do to lighten your burden."_

_Nayter shifted her eyes down, embarrassed, but with a warmed heart. Though the scoop of what he had done amazed and humbled her, the feeling was miniscule in comparison to her jubilation that she would never have a bloodlust strike again. She was in control of herself, for the rest of her life. _

_"What else did he do?" she asked. _

_"He resurrected Katelyn."_

_Nayter fell into stunned silence. Her tail stiffened. Her ears pricked. Her eyes locked with the King's. Her joy at her friend's return rose in her, but then a question occurred to her. The price taken is always equal to the amount given. What equals a human life? Terror took hold of her heart. Mortified of the answer, she still had to ask. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and forced it out. "What….happened?"_

_Eragon's eyes filled with compassion. He shook his head. "I don't know. No one knows where he is. He signed the contract in Ilirea, but I don't even know if he is alive, let alone where he is or if he is well."_

_Nayter wrapped her arms around her stomach. The thought of Brom, dead…it made her sick. The person that had given her meaning of life again, suddenly not being there was a concept that her very essence refused._

_Eragon leaned forward and said, "Come, as swiftly as you can manage. Forsake this land where your sorrow dwells. Brom may be gone, but a whole nation waits for you. Do not let them and you fall with him and by that make his sacrifice meaningless. He went so that you might escape. Honor his final wish."_

_And then Eragon's face had disappeared._

* * *

><p>Rathon's heart took only shuttering beats. He lay in the pile of rubble that was left of Eoam. He gazed up at the ruddy sky, with its dark red clouds, with a distant feeling of an observer watching a game of jousting. Unable to change, unable to affect; only able to sit, watch, and wait for the bloodshed. He had long resigned himself to death. What purpose was there in a life such as his? He had slaughtered thousands, and yet even more thousands would be killed because of what he had done. Because of what he had unleashed. His soul, his heart and his will to live had all been shattered.<p>

Leonis' crimson form descended to him, though he hardly noticed it other than the speed and shape, for his scales matched the skies perfectly. The earth shook under his dragon's weight as he crawled up and lay down beside Rathon. He fixed a crimson eye on Rathon.

_Young one, he said. _

_What have I done, Leonis? I have damned the entire world to the rule of a tyrant dictator that will never die. And for nothing to boot. Katelyn was raised hours before we got to Eoam. _

_There may yet be forgiveness for you, Rathon. _

_Forgiveness, _he scoffed_. For what I have done not even I would forgive myself. _He sat up with great effort._ Lend me your strength, won't you? _

_What do you mean to do? _

_That which I thought I never would._ Leonis polled his strength into Rathon. Rathon held out his hand. On it rested ShadowLight, in the form of a necklace. "I am the Darkness that exists in the Light. I am the Light that lives in the ever-consuming Darkness. Where Darkness exists, I shall be the Light that pierces it. Where Light lives, I shall be the Darkness that consumes it. ShadowLight, I command you, allow me to step back into time." Then the question of what he would offer up in return came to him. He scoffed to himself, wondering out of the things he had, what he even cared for. Nothing seemed worth anything. "I give you my power over magic as recompense for this."

_What are you doing?_

_I'm going to tell him. _

_You cannot affect what you were not alive for._

_I'm not going to affect. I'm just going to tell. You and I both know it will change nothing._

The world reeled around. Everything that had ever happened to him spun backwards, as though he were riding on a horse back through time. He saw everything he had ever done from the perspective of an outside watcher, and many moments made him wince. Then the events he saw became not his own. A siege on a citadel. A blue and black dragon battling in the air. A library. A man who wore the cloths of a noble but who's smile, who's eyes, he knew belonged to Galbatorix. Then, everything stopped and he stood in the middle of a vast void of nothingness. Words, the voice of ShadowLight, whispered in his ear.

_You stand in the dreams of your father. Be swift, Master. You have only a short time. _

Rathon looked out and saw his father dreaming. Shame filled him and he covered himself in the black void he floated in, so that his father would not know it was him. Then he entered Eragon's mind, into his dreams, and he played to his father's eye the scene that had transpired the day of Katelyn's death. He withheld nothing from his father, but what he could not bear to relive. He hid his face the entire time.

As he began to move forward again, he thought, _I'm sorry._

* * *

><p>Rathon's eyes jerked open. His heart was beating fast and sweat coated him. He forced himself to calm.<p>

Curious, he lifted a hand out to a stick that lay on the ground ten feet away. "Risa," he said. The stick remained motionless. Then he sent a focused beam of energy at the stick. Like a trained animal the stick lifted off the ground and into the air. He laughed softly. "I suppose it truly isn't magic."

_Look,_ Leonis said. Rathon turned his gaze to the skies and saw yellow wings floating down to him. It took him a moment to realize who it was. A man leapt off the dragon when it landed and ran to him, calling his name. He fell down beside him and began to tend to his wounds.

"Malizar," he said. His old second in command, before Naydel had come, who had recently become a rider.

"My Lord," he said. "You don't know how relieved I am to find you."

"How did you?"

"It seems that after my time around ShadowLight, I became sensitive to it. I…felt you here, for lack of a better term. My Lord, why have you allowed these injuries to go unhealed?"

Rathon looked down and saw himself. He was covered in blood, both his own, and many others. A gash was on his right leg, a line of red that cut a foot in length and an inch in depth. His right hand and arm were split open with a razor thin cut that dripped blood down his hand. "What reason is there for me to do anything, Malizar? I am broken, beyond the point of repairing."

"There is no such thing," Malizar said. "As someone who is beyond fixing." He began to chant over Rathon's wounds.

"Galbatorix is back," Rathon muttered.

"I know," Malizar replied gravely. "He and some dragon have laid waste to a good part of Alagesia. I know they have destroyed all but one clan of the dwarfs. The last was underground, so I guess they didn't want to go to the trouble of blasting the mountain range apart. Eragon sent riders to summon the Urgals." His eyes darkened. "It was a slaughter, my King. Not a single Urgal was to be found. If not for the ones in Iberia, their race would have been eradicated. From what I know, the Elves were mostly unharmed, as were the humans."

Rathon listened to Malizar without caring to understand. "What am I to do, Malizar?"

"You and I are going to return to Alagesia. We can hide out there. Live under Galbatorix's radar. He'll be so busy consolidating all his slaves, we should slip by unnoticed."

As the pain of the healing became so violent Rathon was starting to lose consciousness, he said, "So this is what I am to be? One day a King, the next, an outcast."

* * *

><p><strong>For all of you how reviewed the last chapter, I thank you deeply. But college is kicking my butt, it's three in the morning, my mind is melting from studying and I just can't force my eyes to stay open longer. Terribly sorry. <strong>


	33. The Rebirth of Hope

Eragon had never seen such a great hoard of people. He estimated that the ports of the city of Elanaror, the Elven city built on the sea after Galbatorix's fall, held at least seventy thousand people of all the races. The elves had been hard at work for more than a week, crafting structures of the sea with as much speed as they could muster. Their work was incredible. Ships that would take months of work by human hands were constructed in an hour. Eragon saw three mast ships that rivaled every ship that had seen come into the port of Vroengard made in less time than it would take him to read a book. Their production of boats had substantially increased after the main bulk of the Elves had arrived from the forest, but Eragon thought that at best they would be atrociously crammed into the ships.

He turned his gaze away from the hordes of humans and elves and looked out at the harbor. Hundreds of Elven ships floated on the water, each of them tied together, stretching out into the sea. There wasn't enough room for them all to fit inside the port, so the Elves simply tied them together and allowed them to drift out as they made them. One of the fifteen surviving Urgals approached him.

The ram stood eight feet tall, his twisting horns looping all the way around. His shoulder was wider than Eragon's chest. The Kull uttered a low growl and lowered his horns. "My people," he said his voice a hard rasp. "Are ready to depart, Firesword."

"I am sorry,"Eragon replied. "For what your people suffered at the hands of Galbatorix."

The Kull looked out at the ocean. "No Urgal has set foot on a boat since the time when we followed you across the sea. We thought this land safe, Firesword. We were wrong." He clenched his fists, a sound that made Eragon sure the Kull could implode his head with a single swing. "We served that snake-tongued betrayer. Much of the blood we spilled during the Varden's campaign, even before we joined it, was that of the innocent. Even though we love war, we take no pride in slaying a baby in the night. Such acts only validate the stories your mothers tell your children; that we are beasts and monsters. Now there are few of us." He lowered his gaze. "We must change, Firesword. The fifteen of us must rebuild our race in a more wise way. Else we face complete annihilation." Eragon did not reply. He knew, historically speaking, that the odds of the Urgals doing away with their ways of war were slim to none. Despite that, he agreed. Something had to change.

"I have a question, Firesword."

"Ask it and I shall answer," Eragon replied.

"What makes you think that the Evil-Bringer will not simply follow us? He had a dragon when he struck the dwarfs in their little rabbit's holes. Why would he not follow us across the sea, and pick us off one by one?"

Eragon thought back to the words of Calibor. _Flee now and I guarantee that you will escape. _"He will not follow us," he said to the Kull. "I have it on good authority. In this, I fear you must trust me."

"We do, Firesword."The Kull said and walked away.

Eragon continued to observe the sea, until he heard someone climb up into the observation tower. He turned his head and saw a woman that looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. She wore a mournful expression and he knew he had seen her before.

She dipped into a curtsy. "Greetings, King." Her voice triggered Eragon's memory. Naydel, Rathon Second Hand.

He said, with a guarded voice, "Greetings." He didn't know who had thrown their lot in with Rathon and he had to be cautious.

She went to join him by the open paneled window. "I understand that you must treat me with suspicion. Indeed, I would likely do the same if the situation were reversed. I assure, however, I knew nothing of Rathon's plan, nor would I have aided him had I known." She wrapped her arms around her stomach, as though she were going to be sick. "His betrayal cuts me deeper than a blade. I loved your son, King Eragon. I think I still do. But I have pledged myself to this cause and I will not falter." She spoke with conviction. "The humans are ready to leave their land behind."

Eragon examined her. She did not appear to be lying. "Have you knowledge of the preparation of the Elves?"

She took her gaze off the floor and looked up at him. "They came with nothing, Sire, as you instructed. They left the moment they got your message, taking nothing with them."

"Then order them to mount the ships," he said. "We're departing as soon as everyone is boarded. We'll sail until we're out of sight of the land and then wait for the dwarfs to join us. And after that…" he shook his head.

Naydel turned and shouted at the various commanders throughout the human infrastructure. Calls and horns began to rise. The Elves continued their work, but drew the boats in so the humans could board. Each one carried hundreds of people, and Eragon's trepidation began to subside.

Then Katelyn pulled herself into the watch tower, appearing tired. Eragon helped her up and said, "Are you alright?"

She wiped sweat from her brow. "Ever since I was…resurrected, my physical abilities seem to have lessened greatly. I can barely walk a mile without gasping for air. I couldn't lift anything today."

"It might be the lack of BloodFire," he commented.

Katelyn observed the loading of the humans with them. "It's terrible to say it, but the Urgals eradication is somewhat of a blessing. We would never have enough time to craft enough vessels if we had to accommodate them as well." Eragon didn't say anything. Katelyn turned and looked out the opposite direction, to the direction of the Hadarac. "Why hasn't Galbatorix attacked us yet?"

"What?"

"He was last spotted destroying the Dwarfs. Why isn't he here yet?"

"I don't know and I frankly don't care. As long as he's not here, I don't care where he is. All we need is for him to stay away from us for another few hours."

Katelyn continued to scan the skies. "King Eragon, I am no longer a Queen, so I request permission to set riders in the skies to watch for Galbatorix."

"Granted," he said. "You may have no more than ten."

"Yes, Sire."

"And when you are finished setting them in place, tell them to…" He was cut off by a magic amplified cry from one of the riders that flew above.

"The Dwarfs! The Dwarfs are here!"

"What?" Eragon said. He turned to the south and squinted. On the distant horizon he saw hundreds of sails dotting the sea, dragons above them. They moved like arrows through the water. "How did they get here so quickly," he said. It had only been five days since he spoke to Nayter. He looked at Katelyn. "Tell the Elves to stop their work and board their ships. Double time. I did not expect to be leaving for another two days, but the sooner we get away from here the better."Eragon jumped down the ladder and fell to the ground. It was a good hundred yards to the coast and he ran there the whole way, jumping past clumps of people that numbered in the fifties. When he reached the shore the Dwarf boats had cut the distance between them by a quarter. _How are they moving so fast? _He thought. A green dot dispatched itself from the headship._ A dragon. He thought._"Clear a landing space!" he shouted. The people around the moved out of the way. After a few minutes of waiting, the green dragon crashed to the ground. Two women climbed down and knelt to him. One was Nayter, though he hardly recognized her, for her ears and tail were nowhere to be seen. The other was a girl had not seen for years, a rider he had sent to live among the dwarfs. Alicia was her name.

"Nayter," he said with amazement. "How did you manage to get here in only five days?"

Nayter rose, her voice filled with pride. "The Elves turned the wind and the current in our favor. The Dragons flew behind us and propelled us with their wind. And the Dwarfs; they did not stop rowing for even a moment. We have not stopped since we left the Mountains, King; not even once."

"A truly remarkable job, Nayter," he said with admonishment. "Your name shall live in legend; for you have saved what is left of the Dwarfen race."

She shook her head. "Nay, Sire. It is them who have saved themselves."

Then Eragon's voice grew mournful. "How many survived?"

"A single clan, plus some stragglers," Nayter replied, her voice as equally somber. After a moment of silence, she said, "My King, I request men. The Dwarfs are utterly spent. I need men to row our ships, for my people cannot."

"You may have whatever number you see fit," he said.

"Thank you," she said, dipping into a curtsey. Alicia rose and turned with Nayter to look back at the Dwarfs. They were a mere mile away. Nayter looked back at Eragon, her eyes filled with fear and hope. "Brom?" she said. Eragon closed his eyes and shook his head. Nayter took a shaky breath and said, "So be it."

It took almost two hours to load all the people and elves onto the boats. Eragon learned that the elves had made just barely enough for everyone to fit with a slim to moderate level of comfort. Finally, after much stress on Eragon's part, everyone was on the ships and ready to set sail.

Eragon gripped the rail as he walked up the stairs into the headship the Elves had made. He stopped by the door and looked back at the land of Alagaesia. _I guess this is what Angela foretold, all those long years ago. _It was then that Eragon saw the dragon flying above. It took Eragon a moment of panic to realize that its scales were as azure as the doom of the sky. Zacaid wobbled and fell to the ground, landing with an eruption of dirt. "Brom!" he called. Nayter heard him. She saw Zacaid where he had landed. She let out a frightened cry and leapt off her boat, swimming the twenty yards to shore.

* * *

><p>Nayter slowed as she neared Zacaid's body, her heart pounding. She had thought Brom gone, but now there was the faintest of hope that he was alive. Zacaid was covered in signs of battle. Scruffs on his scales, burn marks, a few lines were claws had punctured him.<p>

Nayter forgot how to breathe as she turned around Zacaid's tail and saw Brom, leaning against the saddle. Partially dried blood clung to his head. Blood soaked the front of his tunic. For a moment, she stood there, unable to speak, think or act. Then his eyes drifted open and he saw her. The faintest of smiles stretched on his lips.

She ran to him as quickly as she could, embracing him. "Brom! Thank the Gods! I thought you were dead!" He returned her embrace but said nothing. She pulled away and kissed him. The butterflies swarmed in her stomach once more. She had never felt such relief in all her life. "The Godly Contract," she said. "What did it take from you?"

Brom looked at her with the warmest affection she had ever seen, and then placed two fingers on his lips. What he meant slowly seeped in. "Your voice?" He nodded and then put the first finger on her forehead and she heard his thoughts in her mind.

_My voice for your ears and mind, and my ability to cast magic for Katelyn's life. That the price I paid. And it is a price I would pay again, a thousand times again. But we must go now. Galbatorix is only miles away from here and he is coming. Can you help me up?_

She pulled him up and helped him to the headship, where Eragon stood watching. He walked down the steps and put a hand on his sons shoulder, tears in his eyes. "I dared not hope for this, my Son."

_Will you talk for me, _Brom asked her.

_Of course. _

_Tell him that it is good to see him, but that we must be going with all haste. The time is neigh. _

Nayter imparted his words and Eragon lifted an eyebrow. "The Contract," she said. "It took his voice and his magical power."

Eragon's face grew pale. "I'm sorry, Brom."

_It is price I paid with joy, for it is as light as I could have asked for. _

"Let us be gone then," Eragon said after Nayter had spoken Brom's words. They all went up the steps and the door was closed behind them.

* * *

><p>Everyone heard the roar. Everyman man, woman and child, from every race heard the roar.<p>

Eragon turned to look back at Alagaesia. There floated a red and black dragon. On its back sat Aesire, or his flesh. Though miles separated them, Eragon felt like he stood only feet away from their eyes. Galbatorix, in the skin of his old friend, stared down at the ships with mocking condescension.

A sense of evil, sharp as the blade and sinking as the ocean, overcame Eragon. Galbatorix voice whispered in his ear and Eragon remembered the black clad man on the red and black dragon from his nightmares decades ago. _It was you. _He thought. Eragon once more felt as though he were floating in the belly of pure evil and horror. The eyes of the black clad man and the dragon starred at him through the abyss.

_You were warned and you would not take heed. Run now like the frightened deer you are. I shall take my prize. Now that Rathon still lives in this land and I will make it my goal and mission to hunt him down and kill him. _

Eragon jerked as he was pulled out of his stupor. Arya stood beside him. "Come, Eragon. He will not pursue us. Let us move on to a land of new life, hope and joy. Let us move on to Alalea."

* * *

><p><strong>And thus ends LunarMist. Good side note to wrap up this story with; I was wrong. I will be able to finish the entire series by the end of the next book. And yes, it is going to be named ShadowLight. That just makes sense. <strong>


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